Jt 


5  a— 


v/ 


I — I — I    LOOK   A   AWFUL   FOOL— DON'T    ll"—page  125. 


VIRGINIA  OF  VIRGINIA 


H 


BY 


AMELIE   RIVES 

AUTHOB  OF 


A   BROTHER   TO   DRAGONS,  AND   OTHER   OLD-TIME   TALES  "  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 

1888 


Copyright,  1888,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"  I — I — I  LOOK  A  AWFUL  FOOL — DON'T  I  ?"  Frontispiece 

"  i  CAN'T  COME  TO  DINNER  " 1 1 

"  AW-W-W  POPO  !" 43 

ON  THE  TOP  OF  PETER'S  MOUNTAIN 65 

"l   GWINE   TAKE   DAT   DAR    OUTLANDISH   THING 

OFFEN  YO',  HONEY" 139 

"HE  MUST  V  HAD  A  MIGHTY  LEETLE  CROP"     .  161 


VIRGINIA  OF  VIRGINIA. 


i. 

IT'S  a  girl,"  said  Roden,  laying  a  wa 
ger  with  himself.  "  No  ;  it's  a  boy. 
Hanged  if  it  isn't  a  girl!"  He  took  his 
short  brier -wood  pipe  from  his  mouth, 
knocked  out  its  contents  against  the  side 
of  the  wagon,  and  pocketed  it. 

The  time  of  the  year  was  January,  the 
scene  a  country  road  in  Virginia,  and  it 
was  drizzling,  a  thick  Scotch  drizzle,  abet 
ted  by  a  lusty  east  wind.  Even  the  branch 
es  of  the  straggling  locust-trees  that  lined 
the  red  road  seemed  clogged  with  it.  It 
hung  in  folds  upon  the  sides  of  the  mount 
ains,  and  was  blown  in  masses  between  the 
clefts  of  the  rolling  meadows. 


2  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Roden  was  not  only  a  new  arrival  in 
Virginia,  but  in  America,  and  the  impres 
sion  made  upon  him  had  not,  to  speak 
very  moderately,  been  favorable.  Coming 
from  Washington,  some  one  in  the  train 
had  asked  him  if  it  did  not  remind  him 
of  England.  He  had  answered  with  some 
curtness  that  it  did  not,  demanding  at  the 
same  time  why  he  should  be  particularly 
reminded  of  England  by  the  state  of  the 
weather  in  Virginia.  His  interlocutor  had 
replied  with  the  never  -  failing  urbanity  of 
the  Virginian  farmer,  that  "  anybody  could 
tell  he  was  an  Englisher  by  th'  way  he 
talked,  and  them  loose  pants." 

At  the  moment  he  first  saw  the  figure 
alluded  to,  the  owner  of  the  British  ac 
cent  and  the  "  loose  pants  "  was  shivering 
in  spite  of  the  top -coat  turned  up  about 
his  ears  and  the  soft  hat  pulled  down  to 
meet  it. 

It  was  indeed  a  girl ;  she  wore  a  soft 
hat,  the  counterpart  of  his  own,  fashioned 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  3 

of  the  same  stuff  as  her  dark -gray  jacket 
and  the  kirtle  which  reached  just  below  her 
knees.  On  her  legs  were  shooting-gaiters 
of  russet  leather,  decidedly  influenced  as  to 
color  by  the  tyrannic  soil,  and  on  her  feet 
stout  cowhide  boots.  She  carried  a  gun 
on  her  shoulder,  and  a  game-bag  hung 
at  her  side.  She  further  appeared  to  be 
bounded  on  the  east,  west,  north,  and  south 
by  dogs.  An  old  mastiff  lounged  sulkily 
at  her  heels.  Far  in  front,  a  collie  gave 
chase  to  a  stately  buzzard,  which  sailed 
away  undisturbed  by  its  pursuer's  shrill 
barking,  while  an  asthmatic  pug  sought  a 
Juggernautal  fate  between  the  ponderous 
wagon-wheels,  and  a  little  black-and-tan  ter 
rier,  sniffing  hither  and  thither  among  the 
mist -drenched  weeds,  reminded  Roden  of 
the  accounts  of  certain  mammoth  ants  as 
related  by  the  credulous  Herodotus. 

The  girl,  who  had  been  walking  with 
head  bent,  looked  up  as  the  creaking  of 
the  wagon-wheels  arrested  her  attention. 


4  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Roden,  "  but 
can  you  tell  me  if  I  am  on  the  right  road 
to  Caryston  Hall?  I  think  that's  the 


name." 


She  looked  at  him  seriously  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  said,  "  Yes,  you  are.  I 
s'pose  you're  th'  new  Englishman.  Are 
you  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Roden.  "  My  name 
is  Roden.  I  have  bought  a  farm  some 
where  in  this  neighborhood,  and  it  is  called 
Caryston  Hall." 

"  That's  it,"  she  said  ;  "  you're  right.  My 
father's  th'  overseer  there.  Why  don't  you 
get  down  and  walk  ?  You  look  so  cold. 
I'll  show  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Roden  ;  "  I  think  I 
will;"  and  he  jumped  down  beside  her. 

Judging  by  her  attire,  he  had  at  first 
thought  her  a  sporting  country-woman  of 
his  own,  like  himself  an  exile  in  a  far  coun 
try  ;  but  after  she  had  spoken  he  found  that 
the  soft,  slow  intonation  was  strange  to  his 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  5 

ear.  "  The  overseer  business  explains  it," 
he  thought.  "  She  is  a  native,  and  this  lan 
guage  is  Virginian."  In  the  mean  time 
the  girl  was  also  making  mental  observa 
tions.  He  was  the  third  English  gentle 
man  she  had  seen,  though  of  immigrant 
Britishers  she  had  known  full  threescore 
and  ten.  She  was  thinking  that  he  had 
spoken  to  her  with  an  unusual  civility,  and 
wondering  how  long  it  would  continue. 
Civility  this  young  Virginian  had  not 
found  to  be  a  characteristic  of  the  British 
settler  in  her  native  State. 

"  I'm  very  lucky  to  have  met  you,"  said 
Roden,  as  they  walked  on,  having  dis 
missed  the  services  of  the  ancient  wagoner, 
whom  the  girl  addressed  as  "  Unc7  Dick." 
"  I  would  like  to  ask  you  some  questions 
about  the  place,  and  it's  awfully  kind  of  you 
to  go  back  with  me." 

She  said,  indifferently,  and  without  lift 
ing  her  eyes  this  time,  "  Oh,  I  was  goin' 
back  anyway !  Tisn't  any  bother." 


6  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Her  long  strides  matched  Roden's  exact 
ly,  and  the  rapid  motion  through  the  stiffly 
yielding  medium  under  foot  began  to  warm 
his  veins.  They  saw  the  serpentine  flour 
ish  of  Unc'  Dick's  voluminous  whip -lash 
outlined  against  the  pale  sky  as  the  wag 
on  descended  a  hill  just  in  front  of  them. 
Two  more  buzzards  appeared,  slanting  in 
still  absorption  towards  the  west.  Instant 
ly  the  collie  was  after  them. 

"Why  didn't  you  telegraph?"  said  the 
girl,  suddenly. 

"  I  did,"  said  Roden,  with  some  grimness. 
"  I  telegraphed  twice.  I  also  had  the  pleas 
ure  of  rereading  both  telegrams  when  I  ar 
rived  at  the  station  about  an  hour  ago." 

"  Seems  to  me,"  she  said,  turning  to  look 
over  her  shoulder  at  the  mastiff,  pug,  and 
terrier,  that  were  having  a  tow-row  over  an 
old  shoe  (which  same  seem  to  be  sown  in 
lieu  of  corn  in  the  thorns  by  the  Virginian 
way-side) — "  Seems  to  me  that  letters  reach 
us  twice  as  quick  as  telegrams,  anyhow. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  7 

You  must  have  thought  it  funny  we  didn't 
send  for  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  found  it  very  amus 
ing,"  said  Roden,  truthfully,  adding,  in  a 
tone  of  helpless  aggravation,  "All  my  lug 
gage  was  left  behind  in  Washington." 

At  this  direct  appeal  the  overseer's 
daughter  at  first  looked  as  sorrowful  as 
even  Roden  could  have  desired,  bursting 
the  next  moment  into  peals  and  roulades 
of  laughter.  Roden,  after  the  first  sharp 
inclination  to  feel  angry,  joined  in  her 
mirth. 

"  Pore  feller !"  she  said  at  last,  taking  off 
her  rain-soaked  hat,  on  which  she  appeared 
to  dry  her  brimming  eyes  — "  Pore  feller ! 
it  all  seems  awful  to  you  out  here,  don't  it  ?" 

"  It  does,"  said  Roden  in  his  heart,  but 
out  loud  he  replied  with  mendacious  civil 
ity  that  it  did  not.  He  was,  moreover,  oc 
cupied  in  a  close  scrutiny  of  her  uncovered 
locks.  They  were  of  a  pale  golden  color, 
lying  close  to  her  forehead  in  thick,  round 


8  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

rings,  after  the  manner  of  a  child's,  and 
clustering  heavily,  with  the  dampness.  As 
he  stood  beside  her  he  saw  also  that  she 
was  very  tall,  taller  than  most  tall  women, 
and  that  her  fair  throat,  rising  boy-like  from 
a  dark -red  kerchief,  had  unusual  sugges 
tions  of  muscle  beneath  its  smooth  surface. 
Presently  they  walked  on.  The  top  of  a 
tolerably  high  hill  was  soon  reached,  sur 
mounted,  as  Roden  at  first  thought,  by  an 
almost  impenetrable  thicket.  As  they  ap 
proached  nearer,  however,  he  perceived  an 
aperture  in  the  mass  of  foliage,  and  a  long 
wooden  gate,  hanging  by  one  hinge  in  an 
aimless,  desultory  manner,  and  ornament 
ed  also  as  to  its  dingy  gray  with  copious 
splashes  of  red  mud.  On  either  post  were 
rusty  iron  vases,  wherefrom  there  sprouted 
two  stunted  specimens  of  the  aloe  tribe. 
One  of  these  vases,  having  been  broken 
some  years  before,  hung  over  to  one  side 
with  a  suggestion  of  inanimate  sentimen 
tality  highly  ludicrous.  Some  kind  Samari- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  9 

tan  had  thrust  a  stick  in  between  its  dis 
abled  joints,  thus  preventing  it  from  utter 
downfall. 

The  view  beyond  the  gate  was  unique, 
and  to  Roden  rather  pleasant  after  his 
morning's  experience.  The  lawn  proper 
was  shaped  like  a  lady's  slipper,  and  out 
lined  by  a  gravel  carriage-drive.  It  seem 
ed  as  though  some  Titaness  might  have 
set  a  careless  foot  among  the  surround 
ing  shrubbery,  crushing  out  of  existence  all 
save  a  bordering  fringe  of  evergreen  and 
acacias.  The  long,  low  house  of  red  brick 
— with  wings  out-spread  after  a  protective, 
hen -like  fashion  in  the  direction  of  the 
many  out-houses — was  to  be  seen  through 
the  bare  branches  of  two  splendid  tulip- 
trees.  A  little  Alderney  heifer  was  graz 
ing  near  the  portico,  and  some  dorkings 
stood  resignedly  on  long  yellow  legs  under 
the  shelter  of  the  large  box-bushes. 

As  they  worked  along  the  sinuous  car 
riage-way  Roden  looked  with  a  feeling  of 


io  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

ownership  at  the  glimpses  of  distant  hill 
and  forest,  as  visible  through  the  crowd 
ing  tree-stems.  Here  he  was  to  make  his 
home  for  at  least  the  next  two  years,  and 
he  was  glad  not  to  find  it  so  bad  as  he 
had  expected. 

As  she  opened  the  hall  door  the  girl 
said  to  him,  "  Father  won't  be  here  until 
six  o'clock.  I'll  have  you  some  dinner  ef 
you  want  it.  But  you'd  better  go  to  your 
room  first,  hadn't  you,  you're  so  wet? — 
I'll  send  you  some  things  the  larst  Eng 
lishman  left  behind  him.  There's  a  barth 
ready,  and  plenty  of  towels.  I'm  used  to 
fixin'  for  you  English,  you  see.  Well,  good- 
by  till  you're  dressed;  then  I'll  show  you 
over  the  house." 

She  sent  a  little  "  nigger,"  who  conduct 
ed  him  with  wordless  dignity  to  the  apart 
ment  allotted  him,  and  who  some  five  min 
utes  later  returned  again  with  the  "last 
Englishman's  things."  That  personage 
must  have  been  of  very  slight  proportions 


"i  CAN'T  COME  TO  DINNER." 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  13 

and  medium  height,  whereas  Roden  stood 
six  foot  one  in  his  stockings,  and  was  of 
excellent  figure.  He  struggled  for  some 
time  with  the  meagre  garments,  and  then 
decided  that  he  could  not  put  in  an  appear 
ance  until  his  own  garments  should  be  dry. 
At  this  moment  some  one  knocked  at  the 
door  with  the  announcement  — "  Dinner 
rade-y." 

"  I  can't  come  to  dinner,"  said  Roden  at 
the  key-hole.  "  The  clothes  won't  fit  me. 
Say  I  am  very  sorry." 

The  departing  footsteps  echoed  down 
the  narrow  corridor  that  led  to  the  room 
which  had  been  given  him,  and  Roden,  who 
had  taken  the  silk  coverlet  from  the  bed 
and  rolled  himself  in  it,  stretched  out  be 
fore  the  fire  of  pine  cones  in  the  big  fire 
place.  The  room  was  large  and  square, 
and  had  hangings  of  faded  green  silk  em 
broidered  with  tarnished  gold.  A  ponder 
ous  mahogany  wardrobe,  looking  like  noth 
ing  so  much  as  a  grim  wooden  mausoleum, 


14  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

occupied  nearly  all  of  one  wall.  Facing 
this  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  was 
a  low  chest  of  drawers,  also  of  mahogany, 
with  brass  lion -head  handles.  A  square 
mirror  in  a  wrought-brass  frame  hung  over 
it.  The  bedstead  was  low  and  wide,  with 
foot-board  and  head-board  of  a  like  height. 
Voluminous  curtains  of  faded  green  fell 
from  a  mahogany  frame  fastened  to  the 
ceiling,  and  were  tucked  back  behind  brass 
knobs  on  either  side  of  the  bed.  There 
was  a  huge  pale-green  paper  screen  crowd 
ed  into  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  behind 
this  Roden  discovered  a  bath-tub  and  a 
washhand  -  stand.  One  picture  hung  over 
the  mantle-shelf,  a  reproduction  of  the  Ma 
donna  of  the  Chair,  done  evidently  with  a 
very  hard  and  very  pointed  lead-pencil,  and 
faintly  tinted  with  pink  chalk  as  to  lips  and 
cheeks. 

Roden  lay  in  the  soft  embrace  of  his  one 
Indian-like  garment  and  stared  up  at  this 
work  of  art.  He  became  fascinated  in  won- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  15 

dering  how  many  days  it  must  have  taken 
its  indefatigable  perpetrator  to  make  the 
million  of  little  scratches  that  composed  it. 
He  wondered  if  it  were  the  production  of 
generations  past  or  present.  Could  Vir 
ginia  herself  have  been  guilty  of  it  ?  He 
thought  not.  At  all  events  he  hoped  not. 
Her  voice  seemed  to  put  her  beyond  the 
pale  of  such  possibilities.  He  recalled  it 
to  his  memory's  ear  now,  with  a  distinct 
sensation  of  pleasure.  There  had  been  in 
it  a  certain  rich  sonorousness.  It  was 
grave,  serious,  soft  as  the  rush  of  the  rain 
through  the  short  grass  without.  A  beau 
tiful  voice  attracts  men  always,  even  as  the 
timbre  of  a  fine  instrument  invariably  at 
tracts  a  musician.  It  is,  so  to  speak,  the 
overture  to  the  whole  character.  No  ;  the 
pink-cheeked  Virgin,  with  the  slate-colored 
infant  tilted  against  her  wooden  and  unre 
sponsive  bosom,  could  never  have  been  the 
work  of  the  maiden  in  the  Rosalind  cos 
tume.  Never,  never !  Why,  now  that  he 
2 


1 6  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

thought  of  it,  should  the  cheeks  of  the  pict 
ured  Madonna  so  blush  ?  unless,  perhaps, 
at  the  culpable  drawing  of  her  sacred  pro 
portions.  Why  should  she  have  been  drawn 
at  all  ?  There  was  absolutely  no  reason 
that  he  could  discover.  The  pine  cones 
crackled  and  blazed  up  with  a  savory  smell. 
The  fragrant  warmth  stole  pleasantly  over 
the  young  fellow's  relaxed  limbs.  The  pink- 
and-gray  Madonna  faded  slowly  and  surely 
away  in  a  golden  haze.  There  was  a  pleas 
ant  humming  as  of  a  summer  field  within 
his  ears.  Why  did  he  seem  to-  be  pulling 
up  a  scarlet  window-blind,  which  obstinate 
ly  refused  to  remain  in  position,  in  order  to 
let  three  large  black  sheep  gambol  at  their 
pleasure  about  that  imposing  mahogany 
catafalque  ?  And  why  did  the  loss  of  a 
brass  key  at  least  three  feet  long,  and  which 
seemed  to  belong  to  his  hat-box,  occasion 
him  such  acute  mortification  when  called 
upon  by  a  very  old  woman  in  blue  kid  low- 
shoes  to  explain  its  whereabouts  ?  And 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  1 7 

why  did  —  and  why  didn't  —  and  what  on 
earth  made  them  all  ?  Roden  had  not 
slept  so  soundly  since  leaving  British  soil. 

He  was  awakened  by  a  vigorous  rapping 
at  the  door.  He  sat  up  and  rolled  himself 
more  tightly  in  the  big  green  silk  quilt. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  said. 

"  'Tis  yo'  clo'es,"  replied  a  solemn  voice. 
"An'  please,  sur,  ter  dress  ez  quick  ez  you 
kin,  'case  supper  soon  be  rade-y." 

Roden  admitted  his  once  more  dry  out 
fit  through  a  small  aperture  in  the  door, 
after  having  inquired  as  to  the  time,  and 
finding  that  he  had  slept  two  hours. 

"  Miss  Faginia  she  say  ez  how  she  ben 
think  you'd  rayther  eat  yo'  supper  jiss  so, 
'thout  sp'ilin'  it  with  er  sorter  dinner," 
chanted  the  monotonous  voice  without. 

Roden  admitted  that  "Miss  Faginia" 
had  been  quite  right  in  her  conjecture. 
In  half  an  hour  he  went  out  into  the  big 
hall,  which,  divided  by  three  arches,  ran 
through  the  centre  of  the  house.  Over  the 


1 8  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

first  was  a  fine  moose-head.  There  were 
skins  of  many  beasts  here  and  there  on  the 
slippery  oak  floor,  and  straight  -  backed 
chairs  set  against  the  panelled  wall,  which 
some  barbarian  had  painted  white.  A 
much -carved  oak  table  on  one  side  sup 
ported  a  large  silver  flagon  and  two  old- 
fashioned  tankards.  On  the  other  was  an 
old-fashioned  hat -rack,  filled  mostly  with 
feminine  head -gear  of  various  makes  and 
sizes.  A  pair  of  branchy  antlers  supported 
riding-canes  of  all  descriptions. 

Guided  by  the  sounds  of  a  piano  softly 
played,  Roden  opened  a  door  on  his  left, 
and  found  himself  in  a  large  firelit  room, 
whose  walls  were  absolutely  covered  with 
pictures  large  and  small,  all  in  old  Italian 
frames,  all  more  or  less  stiff  and  ill  painted, 
all  hung,  regardless  of  size  or  shape,  as 
close  to  one  another  as  they  could  possibly 
be  placed.  The  effect  of  the  thus  concen 
trated  colors  was,  in  spite  of  the  defects  of 
the  pictures  themselves,  quaint  and  jewel- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  19 

like.  Over  the  mantle  of  carved  oak 
reached  upward  to  the  ceiling  an  enormous 
square  mirror  in  the  style  of  the  First  Em 
pire.  On  one  side  of  the  room  was  hung 
its  mate,  also  in  lonely  grandeur,  and  fac 
ing  the  portrait  of  a  very  rosy  dame  in  a 
still  rosier  tulle  dress,  the  whole  suggesting 
in  color  the  presence  of  the  all-pervading 
Virginian  soil. 

Just  under  this  second  mirror  was  a 
piano,  and  at  this  piano  was  standing  the 
overseer's  daughter,  striking  idle  chords 
with  her  left  hand. 

She  had  taken  off  her  Rosalind  cos 
tume,  and  appeared  in  a  blue  homespun 
dress,  neat  and  scant  of  make,  and  with 
her  two  big  braids  hanging  over  her  shoul 
ders. 

"  Oh,  it's  you !"  she  said,  addressing 
Roden.  "  I  was  just  trying  th'  piano  to 
see  'f  any  V  the  keys  'd  stuck  since  the  last 
Englishman  left ;  but  th'  haven't.  D'  you 
like  music  ?"  she  went  on,  in  her  vibrant 


2O  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

voice,  which  seemed  in  some  strange  man 
ner  to  harmonize  with  the  firelight  and  the 
now  steady  hum  of  the  rain  without.  "  I'll 
tell  you,  before  you  say  anything,  I  can 
play  very  well." 

Roden  found  her  open  conceit  a  very 
novel  and  amusing  sensation,  but  when  she 
had  struck  a  few  chords  firmly,  her  long 
fingers  sinking  in  among  the  keys  as  might 
the  fingers  of  a  miser  among  the  gold  coin 
that  he  loved,  he  thought  no  more  of  any 
thing  save  the  melody  that  filled  the  room. 

"  Gad !"  said  he,  when  she  had  ceased, 
"  I  should  say  you  could  play,  rather ! 
Where  on  earth — who  taught  you?" 

"  No  one,"  she  said,  absently,  striking 
noiseless  chords  with  her  left  hand,  and 
not  looking  at  him.  "  I've  heard  people, 
and  I  do  't  by  ear.  And  the  men  that  Ve 
had  th'  Hall  've  been  awful  kind  'bout  let- 
tin'  me  play — an'  that's  all,"  comprehen 
sively —  adding,  with  sudden  irrelevance, 
"Were  your  clothes  quite  dry?" 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  21 

"Quite,"  he  assured  her;  "but  they  are 
beastly  dirty  to  come  to  supper  in." 

"  I  dried  them  myself,"  she  continued, 
taking  no  notice  of  his  last  assertion. 
"Such  work  as  I  had,  too!  I  really  think 
if  Milly  hadn't  helped  me,  you'd  'a'  been  in 
— in — in  your  green  silk  quilt  now." 

She  leaned  forward  for  some  moments, 
laughing,  with  her  head  against  the  music- 
rack,  so  that  the  piano  reverberated  shrilly 
with  the  clear  sound.  Roden  laughed  with 
her. 

"Who  told  you  — the  little  nigger?"  he 
asked.  "And  who  is  Milly ?" 

She  got  suddenly  to  her  feet,  as  sudden 
ly  becoming  grave,  and  closed  the  piano. 

"  Milly's  one  o'  th'  darkies,"  she  said. 
"  Come  and  get  your  supper." 

He  followed  her  across  the  wide  hall 
into  the  dining-room,  and  found  that  sup 
per  at  Caryston  Hall  was  a  very  pretty 
meal.  It  was  served  on  finest  but  much- 
darned  damask,  by  the  light  of  six  tall  can- 


22  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

dies  in  silver  candlesticks,  each  ornament 
ed  by  a  little  petticoat  of  scarlet  silk,  which 
gave  them  the  appearance  of  diminutive 
coryphees  pirouetting  on  one  slender  wax 
leg.  A  bowl  of  violets  and  primroses  oc 
cupied  the  centre  of  the  table,  flanked  on 
either  side  by  crystal  dishes,  filled,  the  one 
with  the  pale  amber  of  honey,  the  other 
with  the  deep  crimson  of  cranberries. 

The  overseer's  daughter  poured  out  tea 
behind  a  great  silver  urn,  while  on  her 
right  hand  a  monstrous  cut-glass  flagon 
foamed  with  richest  milk.  "  Positively 
artistic,"  thought  Roden,  feeling  a  certain 
respect  in  his  British  breast  for  this  little 
maiden  of  Virginia  who  could  evolve  out 
of  her  own  country -bred  brain  effects  so 
charming.  "  It's  a  beastly  pity !"  he  told 
himself,  though  in  what  the  pity  consisted 
he  could  not  quite  have  told  any  one  else, 
unless  perhaps  that  a  being  so  gifted  with 
a  talent  for  instrumental  music,  and  the 
setting  forth  of  appetizing  supper  -  tables, 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  23 

should  be  hemmed  in  from  further  prog 
ress  by  the  scarlet  soil  of  her  native  State, 
and  should  murder  his  sovereign's  lan 
guage  with  ruthless  regularity  by  behead 
ing  some  words  and  cutting  the  remainder 
in  two. 

He  also  pondered  somewhat  as  to  the 
way  in  which  Virginian  overseers  and  their 
children  expected  to  be  treated  by  resident 
foreigners.  He  noticed  that  the  girl  ate 
nothing  herself,  sitting  with  her  hand  in  her 
lap  after  she  had  poured  out  his  cup  of  tea, 
and  pulling  idly  at  the  frayed  edge  of  the 
table-cloth,  with  eyes  downcast.  He  wished 
very  much  that  he  knew  how  to  address 
her,  and  was  casting  about  in  his  mind  as 
to  how  he  might  find  out  her  surname  with 
out  being  rude,  when  she  answered  him  di 
rectly. 

"  My  name  is  Virginia  " — she  said  "  Fa- 
ginia" — but  it  came  softly  to  the  ear — 
"Virginia  Herrick." 

"They  ought  to  have  called  you  'Julia,' 


24  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Miss  Herrick,"  said  the  young  Englishman, 
gravely  regarding  her  grave  face. 

"  Why  ?"  she  said,  with  her  swift  change 
from  listless  to  alert — "  why  ought  they  ? 
It's  a  hijeous  name,  I  think." 

"  It  isn't  very  pretty — not  near  so  pretty 
as  *  Faginia,'  "  said  Roden,  gallantly ;  "  but 
there  was  a  fellow  once  called  Herrick  who 
was  always  writing  songs  to  'Julia.' " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  sudden  dawn 
ing  in  her  sombre  eyes,  "  that's  the  man 
wrote  *  To  Daffodils  '  and  '  Primroses  '  and 
things,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  That's  the  man,"  he  said. 

"  Well,"  she  replied,  slowly,  "  I  don't  see 
why  /  ought  to  be  called  Julia.  Her  last 
name  wa'n't  Herrick,  'cause  he  wouldn't  'a' 
written  those  kynder  things  to  his  sister, 
and  a  man  wouldn't  'a'  taken  th'  trouble  to 
write  songs  to  's  wife." 

"  Why  ?"  said  Roden,  fixing  on  her  his 
eyes,  at  whose  blueness  she  began  to  won 
der  in  a  vague  way.  Thus  looking  out  from 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  25 

the  young  man's  sunburnt,  weather  -  mark 
ed  face  they  reminded  her  of  some  vivid, 
sky -colored  flower  springing  into  sudden 
azure  among  brown  summer  grasses. 

"Why?"  he  repeated.  "Are  all  Virgin 
ian  husbands  so  ungallant  to  their  wives  ?" 

"  So  what  ?"  she  said,  contracting  her  lev 
el  brows. 

"  So  rude,  so  careless  of  their  wives." 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  so,"  she  made  answer.  "  I 
don't  know  much  'bout  men  'n'  their  wives. 
My  father's  died  when  I  was  born,  an'  some 
how  I  don't  take  much  to  women,  nor  they 
tuh  me.  But  I  know  'nuff,"  she  supple 
mented,  "  to  know  a  man  ain't  goin'  to  make 
a  fuss  over  's  wife." 

"  If  you  ever  marry,"  said  Roden,  "  do 
you  think  you  will  put  up  with  that  sort  of 
thing?" 

"  Sho  !"  she  exclaimed,  rising  and  pushing 
back  her  chair,  which  made  a  sharp  sound 
on  the  polished  oak  of  the  floor.  "  I'll  nev 
er  marry  in  this  world." 


26  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  Well,  you  certainly  won't  in  the  next," 
said  Roden,  smiling  broadly ;  "  that  is,  if 
you're  orthodox." 

"  What  o'dox  ?"  she  said,  pausing  to  ques 
tion  him,  with  one  hand  on  the  table. 

"  Orthodox — if  you  believe  all  that  the 
Bible  tells  you." 

"  Well,  I  don't "  she  said,  quickly ;  "  not 
by  a  long  sight.  I  don't  believe  all  those 
things  got  into  one  place  like  that  ark  with 
out  killin'  each  other  clean  out.  An'  I  don't 
believe  those  b'ars  eat  them  children  for 
laughin'  at  that  ole  feller's  bal'  head  (I've 
laughed  at  many  of  'em  myself,  an'  no  b'ars 
'ain't  ever  eat  me;  an'  if  'twas  right  then, 
'twould  be  right  now).  No,  I  cert'n'y  ain't 
or-or-orth'dox,"  said  Miss  Virginia  Herrick, 
beginning  to  clear  away  the  supper-dishes. 

"  You're  not  commonplace,  at  all  events," 
Roden  told  himself,  as,  after  having  obtained 
her  permission  to  smoke,  he  lighted  a  ciga 
rette.  It  was  now  past  eight  o'clock,  and 
still  no  signs  of  the  recreant  overseer.  Ro- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  27 

den  occupied  himself  with  putting  many 
questions  of  a  more  business-like  character 
to  Miss  Herrick,  as  she  moved  about  the 
room  restoring  things  to  their  proper  places. 
He  found  that  the  little  petticoats  which  or 
namented  the  candles  were  some  more  of 
the  things  left  by  "  the  last  Englishman ;" 
and  that  the  primroses  and  violets  grew  in 
what  was  called  the  "greenhouse,"  a  nar 
row  glass-fronted  corridor  reaching  along 
the  front  of  the  east  wing  of  the  house,  and 
opening  out  of  the  dining-room. 

He  said  he  would  like  to  go  in  to  look  at 
it,  and  she  at  once  conducted  him  there, 
carrying  no  candle,  since  a  full-moon  looked 
in  at  them  through  the  lattice  of  the  winter 
trees.  A  thick  soft  air,  spongy  with  damp 
ness,  closed  about  them.  The  flowers  rose 
dark  and  redolent  on  all  sides.  Roden  could 
make  out  the  large,  bunchily  growing  leaves 
of  a  magnolia-tree  outside,  seen  in  rich  re 
lief  against  the  dim  sky. 

Roden,  who  had  an  artistic  soul,  found 


28  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

much  pleasure  in  watching  her.  He  was 
beginning  to  think  that  in  her  own  unique 
way  she  was  beautiful,  and  she  was  certain 
ly  shaped  like  a  young  caryatid. 

After  she  had  answered  various  queries 
about  house  and  out-house,  niggers  and 
stables,  they  returned  to  the  dining-room, 
and  lifting  one  of  the  tall  candlesticks  from 
a  side-table,  she  opened  one  of  the  many 
doors. 

"  I'm  going  to  father's  room,"  she  an 
nounced;  "'f  you  like  you  can  come  too. 
Most  of  'em  "  (alluding  probably  to  the  pre 
ceding  Englishmen)  —  "  most  of  'em  liked 
to  smoke  there.  I've  got  my  spinnin'  an' 
some  things  to  do.  Ef  you  want  to  stay 
here,  there's  books."  She  made  a  compre 
hensive  sweep  with  her  candleless  hand  in 
the  direction  of  a  low  bookcase  which  ran 
around  three  sides  of  the  room. 

"  I  think  I'll  come  with  you,  if  you  really 
don't  mind,"  said  Roden. 

"  Lor',  no !"  she  hastened  to  assure  him. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  29 

"  But  '£  you  don't  like  dogs  an'  'coons  an' 
things,  you'd  better  not." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  'coons  and  —  and 
things,"  said  Roden,  somewhat  vaguely. 
"  I'll  come,  thank  you." 

They  went  down  a  long  hall,  descended 
a  little  stair-way  whereon  the  moonlight  fell 
bluely  through  a  square  window  high  above, 
down  more  steps,  along  another  passage 
with  sharp  turns,  and  in  at  an  already  open 
door.  An  old  negress,  vividly  turbaned, 
was  heaping  wood  upon  an  already  im 
mense  fire. 

"Lor',  mammy!"  called  Miss  Herrick, 
"  for  mercy's  sakes  stop !  'F  you  put  any 
more  wood  on  that  fire  you'll  have  to  get 
up  on  th'  roof  an'  shove  't  down  th'  chim 
ney."  The  "  'coons  and  things "  were  al 
ready  crowding  about  them. 

Roden  recognized  several  of  his  canine 
friends  of  the  morning,  and  there  were, 
moreover,  two  splendid  old  hounds,  which 
at  sight  of  their  evidently  beloved  "  Fa- 


30  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

ginia  "  set  up  a  most  booming  yowl  of  wel 
come.  There  were  also  the  'coon ;  a  curi 
ous  flat -stomached  little  beast,  that  flew 
about  after  a  startling  fashion  from  chair 
to  chair,  and  which  Miss  Herrick  intro 
duced  as  a  "  chipmunk ;"  a  -corn-crake  ;  a 
young  screech-owl ;  and  three  large  Persian 
cats. 

All  these  pets,  he  discovered  later,  had 
been  presented  from  time  to  time  by  the 
"  last  Englishman,"  or  "  the  Englishman 
before  the  last,"  or  "  the  Englishman  be 
fore  the  one  with  the  glass  eye,"  or  the  fat 
wife,  or  the  ugly  sister,  or  what  not. 

"  If  I  can  only  add  a  gorilla  or  a  condor 
to  this  unique  collection,"  reflected  Roden, 
"my  position  is  assured.  I  will  probably 
be  forever  the  '  last  Englishman,7  and  I  will 
always  be  mentioned  as  'the  Englishman 
who  gave  me  the  gorilla.' " 

He  then  sat  down  in  a  corner  as  far  re 
moved  as  was  consistent  with  politeness 
from  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  apart- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  31 

ment,  and  occupied  himself  with  watching 
"  Faginia,"  her  "  mammy,"  and  the  "  things." 

"Aunt  Tishy,"  said  Miss  Herrick,  indi 
cating  him  with  a  movement  of  her  bright 
head,  as  he  sat  withdrawn  into  his  coign  of 
vantage,  like  a  hermit-crab  within  its  shell, 
"that's  the  new  Englishman,  Mr.  Roden." 

"  How  yo'  do,  sur?  Hope  yo'  coporosity 
segastuate  fus  rate,  sur,"  quoth  the  dusky 
dame,  with  an  elephantine  dab,  supposed  in 
the  innocence  of  her  Virginian  heart  to 
correspond  to  the  courtesy  of  civilization. 

"  My  what?"  said  Roden. 

"She  means  she  hopes  you  are  well," 
explained  Virginia,  about  whose  neck  the 
raccoon  was  coiling  himself  with  serpentine 
affection. 

"  Oh  yes,  thanks,  very  well.  Are  you  ?" 
said  Roden. 

"  Gord !  yes,  sur ;  Tishy  she  aVuz  well — 
ain'  she,  honey  ?"  This  last  appeal  to  Vir 
ginia. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  that  young  woman  "  'cep' 
3 


32  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

when  you  get  th'  misery,  or  th'  year-ache  in 
th'  middle  o'  th'  coldest  nights,  an'  have  me 
huntin'  all  over  creation  for  somethin'  to 
put  in  your  year.  Oh  yes  !" 

"  G'way,  chile  !"  exclaimed  the  thus  ma 
ligned  personage,  with  an  air  of  indignant 
sufferance.  "  If  I  didn'  know  yer  wuz  jess 
projeckin',  I  sutny  would  feel  bade." 

"  Oh  no,  you  wouldn't,"  said  her  mistress, 
easily.  "This  one,"  again  indicating  Roden, 
"  's  goin'  in  fur  horse-racin'.  Some  of  his 
horses  's  comin'  day  after  to-morrer.  That's 
better  'n  Herefordshire  cattle,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  Co'se  you  think  so,"  said  Aunt  Tishy, 
with  something  between  a  sniff  and  a 
grunt,  as  she  settled  herself  in  the  chim 
ney-corner  with  a  basket  of  darning,  and 
fell  to  work,  stretching  the  stockings  to  be 
mended  over  a  little  gourd. 

"  Why,  Aunt  Tishy  ?"  said  Roden,  begin 
ning  to  feel  as  though  he  were  a  character 
in  a  book,  and  might  spoil  the  plot  by  say 
ing  the  wrong  thing. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  33 

The  old  negress  looked  up  at  him  over 
her  big  gold  -  rimmed  spectacles,  with  her 
great  underlip  pushed  out,  showing  its  pale 
yellowish  lining. 

"  Lor' !  sur,"  she  said,  "  Miss  Faginny's 
plum  crazy  'bout  horses.  Ev'ybody  on  de 
place  '11  tell  you  dat.  I  alwuz  hoi's  as  how 
somebody  done  cunjur  her  mar  'fo'  she  was 
bown.  Dat's  why  she  so  run  made  'bout 
horses.  Somebody  sutny  is  cunjur  Miss 
Faginny.  I'll  say  dat  with  my  last  bref !" 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  mammy !"  here  interpolated 
Virginia. 

"  I  sutny  will,"  reiterated  the  old  black. 

"  Cert'n'y  will  what  ?"  said  Miss  Herrick  ; 
"  shut  up  ?  I'm  sure  I  hope  so,  and  I  know 
Mr.  Roden  does." 

She  rose  and  put  down  the  raccoon,  who 
immediately  clambered  up  to  the  carven 
top  of  an  old  oak  press  close  by,  and  hung 
there,  smiling  genially. 

Virginia  busied  herself  in  getting  out  her 
spinning-wheel  and  winding  the  distaff 


34  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

with  blue  wool.  As  she  sat  down  to  her 
spinning,  with  her  closely  plaited  fair  hair 
falling  into  her  lap,  a  novel  thought  suggest 
ed  itself  to  Roden,  namely,  that  this  blond 
maiden  might  be  a  Desdemona  dressed  up 
as  Marguerite,  with  the  Moor  concealed  as 
her  nurse. 

He  watched  with  a  strange  sensation  of 
unreality  the  whirring  wooden  wheel,  the 
soft  falling  of  the  blue  thread  upon  the 
floor,  the  dusky  smoke -stained  rafters  of 
the  room,  wherefrom  hung  strings  of  onions 
and  red  peppers  in  gay  festoons ;  the  old 
negress,  wrinkled  as  to  her  black  face  with 
busy  absorption ;  the  moving  of  the  dif 
ferent  creatures  in  the  sombre  depths  of 
shadow.  Now  it  was  the  glint  of  the  corn 
crake's  flame-like  crest  as  he  thrust  an  in 
quisitive  head  from  his  position  on  a  shelf 
over  the  mantle.  Now  the  white  gleam  of 
the  raccoon's  sharp  teeth  as  he  grinned 
with  an  amiable  persistency  upon  the  room 
and  its  inmates.  Now  the  old  hounds 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  35 

grumbled  uneasily  in  their  sleep,  or  the 
Persian  cats  leaned  against  his  legs  with 
luxurious,  undulating  appeals  to  be  ca 
ressed. 

"  Why  don'  yo'  sing,  honey  ?"  said  Aunt 
Tishy;  "yo'  know  yo'  kyarn'  harf  wuk  ef 
yo'  don'  sing." 

"  Yes,  do  sing,  Miss  Virginia,"  said  Ro- 
den.  "A  nig — I  mean  a  darky  song,"  he 
added,  quickly. 

"  What  shall  I  sing,  mammy  ?"  question 
ed  she. 

"  Dat  'pen's  on  whut  kinder  song  de  gen- 
'leman  wants." 

"Well,  what  kind  do  you  want?"  she 
asked  him. 

"  Something  characteristic,"  he  replied. 

Thus  adjured,  she  sang  to  him,  in  a  very 
rich  contralto  voice,  the  following  ditty : 

"  Ole  ark  she  reel,  ole  ark  she  rock, 
Settin'  up  on  de  mountain-top. 

Ole  ark  a-movin',  movin',  chillun — 
Ole  ark  a-movin,  I  thank  Gord! 


36  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  Ole  hyah,  whut  make  yo'  eye  so  pop  ? 
I  thank  Gord  fuh  tuh  see  how  tuh  hop ! 
Ole  ark  a-movin',  movin',  chillun — 
Ole  ark  a-movin',  I  thank  Gord ! 

"  Ole  hyah,  whut  make  yo'  legs  so  thin  ? 
I  thank  Gord  fuh  tuh  split  'gin  de  win' ! 
Ole  ark  a-movin',  movin,  chillun — 
Ole  ark  a-movin',  I  thank  Gord! 

"  Ole  hyah,  whut  make  yo'  hade  so  bal'  ? 
I  thank  Gord  ben  butt  'gin  de  wall ! 
Ole  ark  a-movin',  movin',  chillun — 
Ole  ark  a-movin',  I  thank  Gord!" 

Before  Roden  could  say  anything,  she 
rose  and  put  aside  her  spinning-wheel, 
holding  out  to  him  her  long  shapely  hand, 
which  was  covered  with  tan  as  with  a 
brown  glove  to  within  about  an  inch  of  her 
homespun  sleeve.  "  Good-night,"  she  said ; 
"  I'm  sleepy.  Father  won't  be  here  now 
till  tuh-morrer.  I  s'pec'  he  slept  at  Cyar- 
ver's.  Everything's  ready — your  barth  an' 
everything." 

Thus  dismissed,  Roden  took  himself  off 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  37 

to  bed.  As  he  dropped  to  sleep  to  the 
tune  of  "  Ole  ark  a  -  movin',"  he  was  con 
scious  of  uncomfortable  memories  concern 
ing  haunted  rooms  in  old  Virginian  man 
sions.  Not  that  he  believed  in  ghosts — 
Heaven  forbid  !  —  but  some  one  might — 
some  little  nigger,  you  know — might  play 
one  a  trick. 

He  was  roused  suddenly  and  unpleasant 
ly  by  three  solemn  raps  on  the  door  at  his 
bed's  head. 

"  Well — what  is  it  ?"  he  said,  in  an  un 
necessarily  loud  tone. 

"  'Tis  me  —  Aun'  Tishy,"  replied  an  un 
mistakable  voice.  "  Please  come  to  de  do', 
sur,  jess  a  minute." 

He  answered  this  appeal,  opening  the 
door  cautiously  an  inch  or  two,  whereupon 
she  thrust  into  his  hands  a  little  white 
bundle. 

"  Dis  heah's  fo'  yo'  to  war  tuh- night. 
Marse  Gawge  he  don'  war  no  night-shuts, 
and  dey  ain'  none  o'  th'  other  Englishers 


38  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

lef  none;  so  I  jess  stole  you  one  o'  Miss 
Faginny's.  Don'  say  nothin'  'bout  it, 
please,  sur,  'case  ef  dar  is  one  thing  Miss 
Faginny's  'tic'lar  'bout,  'tis  her  clo'es." 

Roden  took  the  long  white  garment  gin 
gerly,  as  men  lift  a  young  baby,  bade  Aunt 
Tishy  good -night,  and  closed  the  door. 
He  then  went  to  the  fire  and  began  to  ex 
amine  what  that  colossal  personage  had 
inferred  to  be  "  Miss  Faginny's  night-shut." 

It  was  a  capacious  arrangement  of  very 
thin  linen,  and  superfine  little  frills  of  a 
like  material — hardly  the  garment  in  which 
an  overseer's  daughter  would  have  wooed 
repose.  The  young  man  looked  at  it  care 
fully  and  gravely  from  all  points  of  view, 
then  went  and  hung  it  over  the  mirror,  and 
returning  to  bed,  regarded  it  with  the  mute 
attention  which  he  had  before  bestowed  on 
the  drab-colored  Madonna.  It  was  a  dain 
ty  thing,  probably  a  relic  of  some  previous 
Englishman's  wife  or  daughter,  and  the 
rosy  light  from  the  handful  of  fresh  cones 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  39 

which  he  had  thrown  on  the  fire  stole  in 
and  out  of  its  sheer  folds  caressingly. 

He  left  it  hanging  there,  and  the  last 
thing  he  remembered  that  night  was  its 
gleam,  as  of  a  pretty  ghost  in  the  firelit 
dusk  of  the  big  room. 


II. 

HE  could  have  sworn  that  he  had  slept 
but  a  moment  when  a  terrific  squeaking 
and  squealing,  yelping  and  growling,  under 
his  windows,  aroused  him  with  sufficient 
abruptness. 

His  first  idea  was  that  the  "  'coons  and 
things  "  were  "  killin'  each  other  clean  out," 
after  the  fashion  of  Miss  Virginia's  supposi 
tion  in  regard  to  the  Scriptural  beasts  in 
the  story  of  the  ark. 

Looking  out,  however,  he  saw  that  a 
large  black  and  white  hog  was  being 
chased,  nipped,  barked  at,  and  otherwise 
maltreated  by  the  mastiff  and  the  collie. 
The  frightened  beast  rushed  hither  and 
thither,  squealing  and  grunting,  and  the 
two  dogs  followed,  falling  over  each  other 
in  the  eagerness  of  pursuit.  After  a  while 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  41 

the  mad  trio  disappeared  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  long  terrace. 

Dawn  had  just  broken.  The  east  was 
one  deep  even  tone  of  mellow  gold,  trans 
lucent,  palpitating.  Over  against  it  lay 
gray  streamers  as  of  a  tattered  banner. 
The  morning-star  seemed  to  spin  with  a 
cold  blue  glitter  as  of  ice  in  the  voluptuous 
saffron  of  its  setting.  A  band  of  trees 
stood  out  against  the  vivid  east,  with  bold 
relief  of  indigo  leaves  and  branches,  like  a 
gigantic  tracery  of  unknown  hieroglyphics. 
Over  field  and  lawn  a  white  steam  rose 
and  melted  slowly  —  blue  hill  and  tawny 
meadow  appearing  and  disappearing  as  the 
pearly  masses  rolled  together  or  dissolved. 

Roden  heard  with  supreme  delight  the 
confidential  voice  of  a  little  nigger  an 
nouncing  through  the  key -hole  (their  fa 
vorite  channel  of  communication)  that  his 
"  trunks  dun  come." 

He  got  with  all  speed  through  his  ablu 
tions,  and,  when  his  boxes  were  brought, 


42  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

into  a  well-worn  shooting-coat  and  knicker 
bockers,  determining  as  he  laced  his  hob 
nailed  boots  to  "  do  "  the  farm  thoroughly 
that  morning,  and  devote  the  rest  of  the 
day  to  mountain-climbing  and  explorations 
generally. 

As  he  went  out  on  the  square  portico  at 
the  front  ©f  the  house  he  met  Miss  Her- 
rick,  again  in  her  boy's  dress,  leading  the 
mastiff  and  the  collie  with  either  hand. 
She  had  evidently  been  to  the  rescue  of 
the  black  and  white  hog,  and  both  dogs 
had  a  sneaky  appearance,  as  though  they 
knew  a  flogging  was  in  store  for  them. 

"  Mornin',"  she  said  to  Roden,  with  her 
grave  directness  of  regard.  "  How'd  you 
sleep?" 

Before  he  could  reply,  a  voice,  rising  in 
long,  wailing  tones  upon  the  chill  air,  in 
terrupted  them. 

"O-o-o-o  Po!"  it  called;  "  O-o-o-o  Po!" 
then  a  pause  as  if  waiting  for  a  reply.  Then 
again,  "  Aw-w-w  Po-po  !  Aw-w-w  Po-po  !" 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  43 

"  It's  father  callin'  Popo,"  explained  Vir 
ginia. 

"Who's  Popo? 
Another  nigger  ?" 

"  Yes,"  briefly. 

"  What  does  '  Po 
po  '  stand  for  ?  Na 
poleon  ?"  questioned 
Roden,  much  inter 
ested. 

"No,"  she  said. 
"  'F  you  wait  an'  lis 
ten  you'll  hear.  Fa 
ther  always  calls  like 
that  at  first.  'F  Po 
answers  tuhecly  he'll 
jus'  stop.  'F  he 
don't  answer,  fa- 
ther'll  jus'  go  on 
callin'  till  he  says  «AW_W_W  POPO!" 

th'  whole  name." 

Roden  listened  with  absorbed  attention. 

"O-o-o-o    Popo!     Popo!     Popo!"  rang 


44  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

out  the  voice,  with  angry  staccato  insist 
ence.  "  You  Popo !  Aw-w-w !  you  Po- 
po  !"  Then,  presently,  "  O-o-o-o  !  you  Po- 
po-cat-e-petl !" 

"  Good  heavens !"  said  Roden,  bursting 
into  laughter.  "  Is  that  really  the  poor 
little  devil's  name  ?" 

"  Mh — mh,"  said  Virginia,  with  a  nod  of 
assent.  "  There  was  three  of  'em  born  all 
to  oncet.  One's  called  Popocatepetl,  an' 
one  Iztaccihuatl,  an'  one  Orizaba.  We  call 
'em  Popo,  an'  Whattle,  an'  Zabe." 

"  That  triumvirate  ought  to  rule  some 
thing,"  said  Roden.  "  Could  a  nigger  ever 
be  President,  Miss  Virginia  ?  What  a  lark 
it  would  be  to  speak  of  President  Popocat 
epetl  !  What's  the  other  name  ?" 

"  Page,"  said  Miss  Herrick. 

"  Page !"  echoed  the  young  Englishman 
— "Page?  why  surely  that  name  belongs 
to  the4  F.F.V.'s,' doesn't  it?" 

"All  the  darkies  took  th'  name  o'  th' 
fam'lies  they  b'longed  to  after  th'  war,"  she 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  45 

explained.  "  I  had  a  cook  here  oncet 
called  Faginia  Herrick ;  she  used  to  b'long 
to  father  'fo'  th'  war." 

"  By  gad !"  was  Roden's  sole  remark. 
"  By  gadT  said  he  again. 

"  You  needn't  say  nothin' !"  she  exclaim 
ed,  breaking  suddenly  into  her  melodious 
laughter ;  "  there's  two  little  right  black  nig 
gers  at  th'  mill,  an'  one's  called  Prince  Al 
bert  and  th'  other  Queen  Victoria,  'n'  'f  you 
leave  off  th'  '  Prince '  or  th'  '  Queen  '  they 
won't  answer  you,  neether." 

She  was  evidently  delighted  with  his  ex 
pression  of  face  at  this,  and  released  the 
two  dogs  in  order  to  indulge  more  freely 
in  her  mirthful  mood.  She  sat  down  on 
the  stone  steps,  letting  her  arms  hang  sim 
ply  at  her  sides,  and  putting  down  her 
head,  laughed  into  the  hollow  lap  of  her 
gray  kirtle,  as  though  confiding  her  surplus 
merriment' to  its  care. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  overseer 
came  into  sight — a  tall,  gaunt  man,  with  a 


46  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

beard  that  seemed  flying  away  with  his 
round  head,  after  the  fashion  of  a  comet's 
tail;  little  steely  blue  eyes  drawing  close 
to  the  bridge  of  his  nose  as  though  it  mag 
netized  them ;  long,  crooked  teeth,  not  un 
like  the  palings  in  one  of  his  own  fences 
for  tint  and  irregularity;  and  a  wide-open 
square  smile,  like  the  smile  of  a  Greek 
comic  mask.  He  wore  a  waistcoat  of  as 
many  hues  as  Joseph's  renowned  garment, 
a  blue  cotton  shirt,  ginger-colored  trousers 
tucked  into  heavy  mud -crusted  boots,  and 
a  straw  hat,  impossible  to  describe,  tilted 
to  the  back  of  his  head.  In  his  arms  he 
carried  the  little  black  -  and  -  tan  terrier 
which  Roden  remembered,  and  twisted  its 
untrimmed  ears  while  talking. 

"  Howdy  ?  howdy  ?"  he  remarked,  genial 
ly.  "  My  darter  Faginia's  tole  me  'bout 
you.  Got  all  yo'  clo'es  lef  in  Washin'ton  ? 
Hey?  Got  'em  this  mornin'?  '  You  don' 
sesso  ?  Well !  My  darter  Faginia  says  as 
how  you're  goin'  in  fur  horse-racin'  ?  That 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  47 

so?  You  don'  sesso?  Well,  what  d'you 
think  er  my  darter  Faginia,  anyhow? 
Darter,  go  'n'  bring  me  some  water;  I'm 
mortal  thirsty."  Then,  as  the  girl  dis 
appeared,  "Well,  what  d'you  think  er 
her?" 

"  She  seems  to  me  very  —  very  charm 
ing,"  ventured  Roden. 

"  Well,  sir,  you  'ain't  got  no  more  idea 
of  th'  sweethearts  that  girl's  had — I  mean 
would  'a'  had  '£  I'd  'lowed  it.  The  las'  one 
was  Jim  Murdoch,  a  hoop-pole  man.  But, 
sir  " — here  Mr.  Herrick  assumed  a  tone  of 
the  most  pompous  dignity — "  but  I  will  tole 
you,  sir,  as  how  my  darter  Faginia  shall 
deceive  no  retentions,  respecially  from  a 
hoop-pole  man !" 

"  A  hoop-pole  man  ?"  said  Roden. 

"  That  thar's  hit,  sir,  an'  I  cert'n'y  means 
what  I  says,"  replied  the  overseer,  relapsing 
again  into  his  former  slipshod  easiness  of 
speech  and  manner.  "  Consequently  were, 
the  beauty  of  the  question  air  my  darter 
4 


48  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Faginia  won't  get  married  twel  she  gets  a 
mighty  good  offer." 

"  I  should  say  you  were  perfectly  right," 
assented  Roden. 

"  Well,  yes,  sir ;  I  should  sesso.  I  s'pose 
you  ain't  married,  air  you  ?" 

"  No.  Do  I  look  very  like  a  married 
man  ?"  said  Roden,  who  continued  to  be 
amused.  He  thought  the  overseer  almost 
as  interesting  as  Virginia. 

"Well,  no,"  assented  old  Herrick,  ma 
nipulating  his  abundant  beard  with  an 
air  of  deep  thought.  "  But  the  beauty 
of  the  question  air,  you  kyarn't  al'uz  tell. 
Them  as  looks  the  mostest  married  gen'- 
ly  ain't.  An'  contrarywise,  them  as  don't, 
air—" 

"  Married  ?"  said  Roden. 

"Well,  considerbul,  mostly,"  said  the 
overseer. 

Here  Virginia  returned  with  a  gourd  of 
water,  keeping  the  quick-falling  drops  from 
her  father's  not  too  immaculate  attire  while 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  49 

he  drank  by  means  of  her  skilfully  hol 
lowed  hands. 

"  Yo'  breakfas'  's  ready,"  she  said  over 
her  shoulder  to  Roden.  He  went  in,  and 
found  it  to  be  a  slight  variation  on  the  last 
night's  meal.  There  were  some  corn-meal 
cakes — batter  cakes,  Virginia  called  them 
— and  miraculously  cooked  mutton-chops. 
A  half-hour  later  the  overseer  appeared  at 
the  window  to  offer  his  services  as  guide 
over  the  farm. 

When  Roden  returned  from  his  investi 
gations  it  was  one  of  the  great  clock  in  the 
hall,  and  the  sky  like  a  vast  blue  banner 
overhead. 

He  went  out  on  the  "front  porch,"  and 
called  to  Herrick  as  he  crossed  "  the  yard," 
with  the  little  terrier  at  his  heels.  "  Is 
there  a  good  view  from  that  hill  just  back 
of  the  house  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Mos'  people  goes  fyar  crazy  over  it/' 
said  Herrick.  "  Hit's  a  right  rough  climb 
to  the  top.  Want  tuh  go  up  ?  Faginia 


50  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

kin  show  you.  O-o-o-o-o  Faginia !  Fa- 
ginia !" 

Virginia  appeared,  clad  from  throat  to 
heels  in  a  vast  brown  apron,  her  half-bare 
arms  covered  with  flour,  and  her  thick 
braids  skewered  across  the  top  of  her  head 
with  a  big  wooden  knitting-needle. 

"  Makin'  bread  ?"  said  her  father.  "  Well, 
yo'  kin  get  yo'  mammy  to  finish  that.  Mr. 
Roden  here  he  wants  to  go  trapeezing  up 
to  th'  top  o'  Peter's  Mountain.  I  tole  him 
you  could  show  him." 

"All  right,"  she  said,  briefly;  "but  I 
kyarn't  walk:  the  Alderney  heifer  stepped 
on  my  foot  this  mornin'.  I'll  ride  if  you 
like :"  this  last  to  Roden. 

"  By  all  means,"  he  said ;  "  but  if  you  do 
not  mind,  I  had  rather  walk." 

"  Of  co'se,"  she  said,  and  disappeared 
again. 

"  The  beauty  of  the  question  air,"  said 
her  sire,  looking  proudly  after  her,  "  that 
gyrl  kin  ride  like  a  Injun." 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  51 

"  She  seems  to  do  everything  well,"  said 
Roden,  with  a  pleased  recollection  of  those 
mutton-chops  which  Aunt  Tishy  had  con 
fided  to  him  "  Miss  Faginia  done  herself." 

"She  cert'n'y  does,"  said  Herrick,  and 
after  making  some  unique  excuse  disap 
peared  also. 

Miss  Herrick  appeared  a  few  moments 
later,  again  clad  in  her  boyish  attire,  and 
mounted  upon  a  fidgety  little  roan  mare. 
She  had  slung  a  wicker  basket  from  the 
saddle,  and  Roden  heard  a  merry  clink  as 
of  glass  kissing  silver  when  the  mare  sidled 
about. 

"  That's  a  clever-looking  little  nag,"  said 
Roden.  "  Is  she  yours  ?" 

"  Nuck,"  said  Virginia.  "  I  reckon  she's 
yours ;  she  goes  with  the  place." 

"  I  didn't  see  her  this  morning,"  Roden 
said,  somewhat  puzzled. 

"  No ;  she'd  gone  to  the  shop  to  get  a 
new  shoe ;  that's  why.  I  reckon  you'll 
name  her  over." 


52  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  Why  ?"  said  Roden.  It  seemed  to  him 
he  had  never  put  that  monosyllabic  ques 
tion  so  often  before  in  the  entire  course  of 
his  life. 

"  'Cause  it  ain't  very  pretty,"  Virginia 
explained.  "  Father  named  her — it's  Poke- 
berry." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Roden,  laugh 
ing.  "  I  rather  fancy  it.  It's  uncommon, 
to  say  the  least.  I  don't  think  I'll  change 
it." 

"  Well,  there's  two  others  I  know  you'll 
change,"  she  asserted.  "  They're  two  car 
riage-horses,  an'  they're  named  Peckerwood 
an'  Hoppergrass.'1 

"  Capital !"  said  Roden,  laughing  again. 
"  Change  them  ?  —  not  much  !  Shall  we 
start  now  ?" 

It  was  a  perfect  day — perfect  as  only  a 
day  in  Southern  winter-tide  can  be.  The 
air  was  radiant,  wine-like,  while  with  a  still 
further  suggestiveness  little  glittering  in 
sects  spun  around  and  around  in  the  sun- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  53 

light  like  the  particles  of  gold-leaf  in  eau- 
de-vie  de  Dantzic.  The  roads,  dried  in 
some  sort  by  the  steady  wind  of  the  past 
night  and  morning,  were  mellowed  to  a 
dull  orange  in  lieu  of  their  former  startling 
crimson.  Infinite  tones  of  faded  browns 
and  grays  wrapped  wold  and  hill-side.  The 
sky,  of  an  intense  metallic  pallor,  was  cov 
ered  with  gauze -like  masses  of  wind -torn 
cirri.  As  they  went  on,  a  sycamore  thrust 
its  bone -white  arms  before  a  dark  hollow 
in  the  mountain -side,  reminding  one  of  a 
skeleton  guarding  the  mouth  of  a  cavern, 
where  during  its  life  it  had  concealed  some 
treasure.  The  harsh  call  of  crows,  begin 
ning  in  the  far  east,  passed  in  crescendo 
above  their  heads,  and  died  away  as  the 
heavy  birds  flew  westward. 

Virginia,  apparently  unconscious  of  his 
presence,  was  watching  Roden  narrowly  as 
he  walked  at  her  side.  Owing  to  that  pe 
culiar  faculty  with  which  only  women  are 
endowed,  she  was  enabled  thus  to  observe 


54  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

him  while  seemingly  absorbed  in  the  sun- 
shot  vista  of  the  road  before  them.  He 
had  taken  off  his  coat,  as  the  increasing 
sunlight  and  the  exertion  of  walking  had 
overheated  him,  and  his  flannel  shirt  ex 
pressed  damply  the  splendid  modelling  of 
his  supple  body.  She  noticed  how  the  sun 
burn  stopped  in  a  line  about  his  throat,  the 
fair  flesh  showing  beneath  with  a  girlish 
whiteness,  as  is  often  the  case  with  very 
strong  men. 

"  It's  a  heap  whiter  than  mine,"  thought 
Virginia. 

"  I  wish  you'd  sing,"  he  said,  suddenly. 
"  Will  you  ?" 

"  A  nigger  song  ?"  said  the  girl,  with  a 
growing  intuition  in  regard  to  his  wishes. 
She  then  sang  as  follows : 

"Bright  sunny  mornin' 

Nigger  feel  good, 
Axe  on  he  shoulder 

Coin'  fur  de  wood. 
Little  piece  er  hoe-cake 
Thout  any  fat; 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  55 

White  folks  quoil 

'Case  he  eat  all  o'  dat. 

Hop  'long,  hop  'long,  hop  'long,  Peter, 

Hop  'long,  Peter's  son ! 
Hoppergrass  sittin'  on  a  sweet-e'ayter  vine, 
Big  tuckey-gorbler  come  up  behine, 
Hop  'long,  Peter's  son. 

"One  bright  mornin'  John  did  go 
Down  in  de  medder  fur  ter  mow; 
Ez  he  mowed  acrost  de  fiel' 
Great  big  sarpint  bit  him  on  de  heel. 
He  juck  it  up  right  in  he  hand, 
And  back  he  went  tuh  Maury  Ann; 
'Oh,  Maury  Ann,  oh,  don'  you  see, 
One  ole  sarpint  done  bit  me!' 

Hop  'long,  hop  'long,  hop  'long,  Peter, 
Hop  'long,  Peter's  son." 

Roden  was  delighted  with  her  rich,  reed- 
noted  voice.  She  imitated  the  negroes' 
tones  to  perfection.  The  inflection  and 
intonation  were  without  fault. 

"  How  well  you  do  it !"  he  said.  "  It's 
really  awfully  pretty.  Can't  you  give  me 
another  ?" 


56  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

She  sang  him  one  or  two  more,  and  end 
ed  by  repeating  in  a  singsong  fashion  a  lit 
tle  rhyme  which  convulsed  him : 

"  Mars'r  had  a  leetle  dorg, 

An'  he  was  three  parts  houn' ; 
Ev'y  time  he  strike  a  trail 
He  bounce  up  off  de  groun'." 

"  They  make  up  all  these  things,  of 
course  ?"  he  asked  her. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Virginia :  "  they're  awful 
fond  of  '  makin'  hymes,'  as  they  call  it. 
Here's  another: 

"Ef  I  had  a  needle  an'  thread, 

Big  ez  I  could  sew, 
I'd  stitch  my  'Liza  to  my  side, 
An'  off  down  de  road  I'd  go." 

He  amused  himself  by  trying  to  sing 
some  of  the  various  ditties  after  her,  but, 
as  they  began  to  ascend  the  mountain, 
found  that  he  needed  all  the  breath  at  his 
command. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  57 

The  dead  leaves,  sodden  with  the  winter 
rains,  closed  in  masses  about  the  feet  of 
Pokeberry,  and  of  the  young  Englishman 
as  he  tramped  untiringly  at  her  muzzle. 
The  shaft  of  a  young  pine  rose  slender  and 
virginal  from  the  lace-work  of  bare  trees, 
its  plumy  crest  breaking  with  lucent  emer 
ald  the  sea-blue  reach  of  sky.  A  cardinal- 
bird  flashed,  with  unconscious  contrast, 
against  the  neutral  tints  of  the  woody  dis 
tance,  meshed  as  it  were  in  the  multitudi 
nous  glittering  of  sunlit  twigs.  From  the 
leaf-stirred  silence,  far  in  the  heart  of  the 
forest,  came  the  urgent  rat-a-plan  of  a  wood 
pecker.  Dead  leaves  occasionally,  loosen 
ed  by  the  fitful  wind,  fell,  turning  slowly 
in  their  descent,  now  between  the  startled 
ears  of  Pokeberry,  themselves  most  leaf-like, 
now  upon  Virginia's  skirt  or  hat,  as  she 
sat  wordless,  listlessly  supporting  the  reins 
upon  her  knee. 

They  came  presently  to  a  narrow  mount 
ain  stream,  clear  and  brown,  over  the  sunk- 


58  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

en  leaves.  The  sunlight  through  the  sway 
ing  tendrils  of  a  wild  grape-vine  overhead 
sent  dim  but  sharply  defined  shadows  wa 
vering  back  and  forth  over  its  bright  sur 
face,  as  though,  being  spiritualized,  they 
breathed  with  a  new  life.  A  corn-crake, 
moving  cautiously  among  the  withered  wa 
ter-grasses,  thrust  forward  its  gay  crest  and 
peered  inquisitively  at  them,  whereupon  the 
collie  cleared  the  brook  with  an  arching 
bound,  and  set  forth  in  mad  pursuit  of  this 
new  quarry.  The  crake  at  once  rose  into 
the  blue  lift,  with  the  harsh,  derisive  cry 
from  which  it  takes  its  name. 

After  a  while  they  came  upon  a  log-cabin 
set  in  a  little  patch  of  cleared  ground.  From 
a  small  window  close  against  the  roof  flaunt 
ed  a  mud-stained  curtain  of  sacking.  The 
red  clay  marks  responded  to  a  certain  mor 
bidness  in  Virginia,  by  suggesting  the  wip 
ing  of  bloody  hands  upon  the  coarse  stuff. 
There  had  been  a  murder  some  years  be 
fore  on  this  very  mountain,  and  thoughts  of 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  59 

a  grewsome  sort  were  easily  called  forth  in 
her  when  remembering.  A  few  black-and- 
white  pigs  of  the  genus  "  nigger  "  hurtled 
squealing  down  the  hill-side,  pursued  by  the 
indefatigable  collie,  while  a  little  fawn-col 
ored  child,  with  whity-brown  hair  and  pur 
plish-white  eyes,  stood  in  the  door  and  ap 
parently  bit  its  thumb  at  them. 

"  Do  you  bite  your  thumb  at  us,  sir  ?" 
quoted  Roden,  cheerily,  whereat  the  little 
darky  fled,  with  a  shrill  "  Yah  !"  of  mingled 
delight  and  terror,  into  the  bacon-perfumed 
room  beyond. 

They  were  now  stopped  by  some  draw 
bars,  which  passed,  they  found  themselves 
ascending  a  steep  incline  sown  with  large 
stones,  as  though  Jove  and  his  giants  might 
have  had  a  sharp  encounter  just  in  that 
spot.  But  having  gained  the  top  of  the 
bluff,  they  came  upon  a  view  at  which  Ro 
den  stood  and  stared  in  silent  admiration. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never  before 
so  entirely  realized  the  ball-like  character  of 


60  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

the  earth.  It  seemed  now  to  be  swinging 
like  a  magician's  globe,  imprisoned  in  an 
other  of  larger  size,  which  was  hollowed 
from  some  marvellous,  million-colored  gem. 

The  air  had  changed  suddenly  from  balmy 
warmth  to  a  strange  damp  keenness,  while 
the  sky,  which  had  cleared  on  their  way  up, 
was  strewn  from  east  to  west  with  the  same 
woolly  clouds  which  had  at  first  covered  it. 
All  above  them  was  a  lustrous  monotone  of 
gray,  brightening  towards  the  east  into  a 
pale  daffodil,  and  farther  towards  the  south 
into  a  lurid  orange.  From  south  to  west  a 
band  of  vivid  violet-blue  stretched  solidly, 
cleft  here  and  there  with  wedges  of  pale 
light  slanting  in  regular  order,  like  the  bay 
onets  of  a  vast  army  marching  eastward. 

"  That,"  said  Virginia,  indicating  the  gor 
geous  phenomenon,  "  means  rain." 

"  Oh,  I  think  not,"  said  Roden,  carelessly. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Miss  Herrick. 

The  wind  blew  ever  stronger  and  strong 
er  from  the  north,  shifting  suddenly  to  the 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  61 

north-east.  Virginia  felt  a  heavy  splash  of 
water  upon  her  hand.  She  said  nothing, 
but  held  it  out  to  Roden  in  silence,  and  at 
the  same  moment  the  wind,  scolding  like  an 
old  hag  who  has  been  deprived  by  some  ad 
venturous  urchin  of  her  dinner,  bore  down 
upon  them. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Roden,  "we  are  only 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  top." 

"  Won't  you  put  on  your  coat  now?"  said 
Virginia,  blinded  by  the  blowing  of  her  hair 
into  her  eyes. 

He  replied  that  he  did  not  feel  the  need 
of  it,  and  strode  on  a  little  ahead.  The  wind 
sent  his  shirt  in  fine  ripples  across  his  back. 
One  could  distinctly  see  the  muscles  at 
work  beneath  the  flexible  skin.  Strength, 
above  all  things,  was  what  this  little  barba 
rian  admired,  and  she  saw  it  now  in  a  per 
fection  which  filled  her  with  unconscious 
satisfaction. 

"  My !  couldn't  he  double  that  braggin' 
Joe  Scott  up  !"  she  told  herself.  "  Whew  1 


62  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

I'd  like  to  see  somebody  make  him  right 
mad.  Couldn't  he  lick  'em  !" 

As  they  neared  the  summit  the  gale  be 
came  more  furious.  Roden  was  obliged  to 
lead  the  thoroughly  frightened  mare,  and 
Virginia's  long  hair,  becoming  unbound, 
whipped  with  the  sting  of  a  lash  across  his 
face.  She  recaptured  and  held  it  firmly 
with  one  hand,  while  he,  furtively  observing 
it,  thought  it  must  be  at  least  two  yards  in 
length.  She  assumed  a  new  phase  in  his 
eyes,  wrapped  thus  in  her  plenteous  tresses. 
A  certain  boyish  look,  transmitted  to  her 
through  the  medium  of  the  short  locks 
about  her  brow,  had  vanished  completely. 
She  looked  like  some  mountain  Godiva 
hidden  all  as  in  a  banner  of  cloth  of  gold. 
Roden  wondered  if  such  marvellous  hair 
was  a  characteristic  of  Southern  women. 

They  came  at  last  to  the  one  stunted 
apple  -  tree  which  crowned  the  noble  crest 
of  the  mountain,  with  an  effect  as  bathetic 
as  the  scalp-lock  of  an  Indian  brave.  The 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  63 

wind  screamed  through  the  gnarled  ground- 
kissing  branches  with  the  sound  of  a  gale 
through  cordage.  Pokeberry  squatted  ig- 
nominiously  in  the  fierce  hurly,  and  put 
back  her  nervous  ears,  while  Virginia  swung 
from  the  saddle.  Once  on  the  ground,  she 
found  that  to  keep  the  perpendicular  was  a 
matter  of  some  skill.  She  put  one  arm 
around  a  mass  of  the  tangled  branches  and 
looked  up  at  Roden  with  a  laugh,  which 
was  seized  and  dashed  down  the  steep  de 
clivity  or  ever  it  reached  his  ears.  He  in 
the  mean  time  having  tethered  the  mare 
securely,  resumed  his  coat,  and  unbinding 
his  covert-coat  from  the  saddle,  offered  to 
help  the  girl  on  with  it.  She  looked  at  him 
in  evident  surprise,  but  made  no  resistance. 
As  she  loosened  the  branches  in  order  to 
put  her  arms  into  the  sleeves,  which  were 
whirling  wildly,  with  an  air  of  reckless  in 
toxication,  a  sharp  gust  blew  her,  coat  and 
all,  directly  into  Roden's  arms. 

He    laughed,  disentangling    himself    as 
5 


64  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

best  he  might  from  the  wet  bondage  of 
her  heavy  locks,  but  she,  reddening  vividly 
through  all  her  clear,  sun -browned  skin, 
gave  her  attention  to  the  garment  that  he 
held.  It  seemed  to  her  a  strange  thing 
that  he  should  offer  to  lend  it.  She  had 
been  on  rainy  expeditions  with  many  men, 
both  English  and  Virginian,  while  none  that 
she  could  remember  had  ever  before  offer 
ed  to  protect  her  in  such  wise  from  the  in 
clemency  of  her  native  heavens. 

She  looked  down  a  little  consciously  at 
the  weather  -  stained  tan  -  color  of  the  little 
coat.  She  felt  that  it  would  be  an  insult 
to  suggest  to  so  mighty  a  pedestrian  the 
idea  of  taking  cold ;  at  the  same  time  she 
was  afraid  that  such  would  be  the  memento 
he  would  bear  away  with  him  from  the  top 
of  Peter's  Mountain.  As  for  herself,  she 
was  as  accustomed  to  wind  and  rain  as  one 
of  the  big  oxeye  daisies  in  her  own  fields. 

"  There's  some  sandwiches  an'  a  glass  in 
that  basket,"  she  said,  or  rather  shrieked, 


ON   THE   TOP   OF    PETER  S    MOUNTAIN, 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  67 

to  Roden.  He  went  to  get  them,  tacking 
through  the  stiff  wind  with  much  dexterity, 
and  they  partook  of  thin  slices  of  Aunt 
Tishy's  bread  and  Virginian  ham  with  a 
heroic  disregard  of  the  downpour.  All  at 
once  they  were  confronted  by  a  small  ebon 
figure,  hatless  and  breathless. 

"PopoT  said  Miss  Herrick ;  "what  in 
the  name  o'  sense  are  you  doin'  here  ?" 

"  Oh,  Miss  Faginia,  Miss  Faginia,"  howl 
ed  the  little  black,  "  de  lightnin'  dun  gone 
thoo  Marse  Johnson's  house  an'  kill  he  an' 
he  horg !  An'  I  wuz  so  skeered  'bout  you 
I  jess  took  out  an'  run  up  de  mounting  to 
see  ef  you  wuz  all  right." 

"  Well,  I  am,"  said  his  mistress.  "  You 
pore  little  thing,  how  wet  you  are  !  Come 
and  get  here  under  these  branches." 

The  faithful  Popocatepetl  came  and 
crouched  on  his  heels  at  her  side.  He 
was  drenched  to  the  skin,  and  his  dark 
hide  showed  in  patches  through  his  shirt 
of  some  thin  white  stuff,  which  elsewhere 


68  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

puffed  out  in  irregular  blisters,  like  the 
wet  linen  in  a  washer-woman's  tub.  From 
a  strange  freak  of  nature,  not  unusual  in 
these  Virginian  mountains,  his  knotty  wool 
was  of  a  pale  tan-color.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
think  that  the  little  negro  perpetually  grins. 
Nothing  absolutely  could  have  been  more 
full  of  woe  and  resignation  than  the  ex 
pression  of  the  young  Popo  as  he  watched 
with  Pokeberry  the  ceaseless  flood  that 
swept  over  hill  and  valley. 

Although  comparatively  sheltered,  there 
still  escaped  through  the  tangled  apple- 
boughs  moisture  sufficient  to  prove  ex 
tremely  unpleasant.  The  large  drops  fell 
heavy  and  monotonous,  some  into  the  furry 
hollows  of  the  mare's  flexile  ears,  causing 
her  to  toss  her  head  with  a  swift  impa 
tience  of  movement  that  set  the  little  metal 
buckles  on  her  head -gear  tinkling  faintly, 
some  upon  Roden's  breast  and  hands,  some 
upon  the  uncovered  head  and  cheeks  of  the 
girl  at  his  side.  She  tossed  her  head  once 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  69 

or  twice  with  a  close  reproduction  of  Poke- 
berry's  impulsive  gestures. 

The  surrounding  mountains  were  by  this 
time  entirely  blotted  from  sight  by  the  lead- 
colored  sheets  of  wind -urged  rain.  The 
branches  of  the  trees  on  the  slopes  below 
them  seemed  living  creatures,  who,  frantic 
with  alarm,  tugged  and  twisted  to  free  them 
selves  from  their  native  boles,  and  to  flee 
before  the  ruffian  wind  that  assaulted  them. 
Blown  leaves,  like  troops  of  frightened  birds, 
were  driven  past  in  gusts.  Not  a  sound 
was  to  be  heard  save  the  ceaseless  hiss  of 
the  rain  on  the  hard  ground,  the  creaking 
of  the  tortured  trees,  and  the  fluctuating 
roar  of  the  wind  above  all  else.  Pokeberry, 
cowed  and  shivering,  gazed  wistfully  down 
at  the  swimming  field  below. 

The  darkness  had  increased  palpably 
within  the  last  five  minutes,  and  the  wind, 
raging  downward  through  the  stems  of 
the  tall  pines  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
mountain,  made  a  sound  like  to  the  an- 


70  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

gry  breathing  of  some  giant  through  his 
locked  teeth. 

"  That  is  almost  wolfish,"  said  Roden. 

"  There  was  wolves  in  these  mountains 
when  my  father  was  a  little  boy,"  she  re 
sponded. 

Darker  clouds  seemed  to  be  ever  rolling 
up  from  the  east,  veined  with  glittering 
threads  of  lightning,  which  pierced  the  ir 
regular  masses  on  all  sides  like  the  fronds 
of  an  immense  leaf.  The  trees  on  the  slopes, 
still  wind-swept,  seemed  anon  pale  with  ter 
ror  or  dark  with  dread  as  their  light  and 
dark  leaves  were  alternately  tossed  upward. 
Over  against  the  west  was  a  dull  citrine 
glare,  like  the  smoke  that  overhangs  a  bat 
tle-field  on  a  sunlit  day,  reflected  here  and 
there  in  the  slimy  soil  and  rain -roughened 
waters  of  a  stream  some  way  beneath  them. 

Suddenly  Virginia  turned  and  swung  out 
of  Roden's  coat  with  one  of  her  swift  move 
ments.  "  Please  put  it  on,"  she  said  to  him. 

"  Why,  no,"  he  said ;  "  I  don't  want  it.    I'm 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  71 

perfectly  comfortable.  I  don't  know  why  I 
brought  it — unless  from  a  happy  inspiration 
in  regard  to  you,"  he  added,  pleasantly.  She 
turned  from  him,  and  stooping,  wrapped  the 
shivering  Popo  in  it. 

"  They  feel  the  cole  so !"  she  said  to  Ro- 
den,  standing  erect  again.  "  An'  I  never 
wrop  up."  Roden  did  not  know  whether 
to  laugh  or  to  swear. 

When  the  rain  had  abated  somewhat,  and 
they  returned  to  Caryston,  he  told  himself, 
as  he  soothed  his  inner  man  with  some  ex 
cellent  Scotch  whiskey,  that  he  "  really  rath 
er  liked  it  in  the  girl;  but  —  d n  the  lit 
tle  nigger ! — that  was  my  pet  coat !" 


III. 

RODEN  was  the  younger  son  of  an  Eng 
lishman  of  title.  He  was  also  what  is  some 
times  graphically  described  as  being  sans  le 
sou.  It  was  his  intention  to  try  stud-farm 
ing  in  Virginia.  No  better  horseman  than 
Roden  ever  put  boot  in  stirrup.  He  had, 
as  an  old  pad-groom  once  remarked,  "  a  ge 
nus  for  osses."  It  was  a  mania,  a  fad  of  the 
most  pronounced  type,  with  him.  No  wom 
an's  eye  had  ever  possessed  for  him  half  the 
charm  that  did  the  full  orbs  of  his  favor 
ite  mare,  Bonnibel,  as  she  gazed  lustrously 
upon  him  over  her  well-filled  manger.  No 
sheen  of  woman's  hair  had  ever  vied,  in  his 
opinion,  with  the  satin  flanks  of  Bonnibel. 
What  was  it  to  love  a  woman  ?  Was  it 
half  the  zest,  the  delight,  of  feeling  a  good 
horse  between  one's  knees,  what  time  the 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  73 

welcome  cry  of  "  Gone  away !"  makes  glad 
delirium  in  one's  veins,  while  the  music  of 
the  spotted  darlings  thrills  air  and  soul  ? 
Roden  would  bluntly  and  unpoetically  have 
informed  you  that  you  were  a  "  duffer  "  had 
you  attempted  to  argue  the  point.  He  had 
never  cared  much  for  women,  either  col 
lectively  or  as  individuals.  They  had  per 
haps  played  too  small  a  part  in  his  life. 
"  Egad,  sir !"  his  father  had  cried  to  him 
one  day  in  a  fit  of  anger,  "you'll  grow  up 
with  a  pair  of  legs  like  pot-hooks  !" 

Mr.  Herrick  informed  him,  on  the  sec 
ond  day  after  his  arrival,  that  "  the  beauty 
of  the  question  were,  he  cert'n'y  did  have  a 
mighty  good  foothold  on  a  hawse." 

It  was  on  that  day  also  that  most  of  the 
horses  arrived  from  New  York — Bonnibel 
among  them.  She  was  as  beautiful  a  daugh 
ter  as  Norseman  ever  sired.  Deep  of  girth, 
clean  of  limb,  broad  of  loin,  with  splendid 
oblique  shoulders,  bossed  with  sinew  and 
muscle  which  quivered  with  restrained  pow- 


74  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

er  beneath  the  silky,  supple  hide ;  a  small 
compact  head  with  ample  front,  over  which 
the  sensitive  leaf -like  ears  kept  restless 
guard;  great  limpid  eyes,  a  crest  like  a 
rainbow,  and  quarters  to  have  lifted  Lean- 
der  clean  over  the  Hellespont.  In  color 
she  was  a  rich  brown,  touched  with  tan  on 
muzzle  and  flanks,  while  the  slight  floss 
of  mane  and  tail  had  also  flecks  of  gold 
towards  the  ends,  like  those  in  the  locks  of 
some  dark-haired  women.  Like  her  great- 
granddam,  Fleur-de-Lis,  she  stood  full  six 
teen  hands,  but  was  neither  leggy  nor  light 
of  bone. 

"  May  I  give  her  an  apple  ?"  said  Vir 
ginia,  as  she  turned  her  slow,  dark  look 
from  Bonnibel  to  her  master.  That  saga 
cious  damosel  was  already  reaching  after 
the  coveted  golden  ball  in  the  girl's  hand, 
with  cajoling  little  movements  of  her  soft 
nose.  Having  obtained  permission,  Miss 
Herrick  threw  one  arm  over  the  mare's 
graceful  crest  and  presented  her  with  the 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  75 

apple — one  of  those  renowned  Albemarle 
pippins  on  which  no  duty  is  demanded  by 
England's  gracious  queen. 

Bonnibel  ate  it  with  evident  participation 
in  her  sovereign's  good  taste,  rubbing  her 
handsome  head  against  the  girl's  arm  with 
an  almost  cat-like  softness  of  caress. 

"  I  don'  s'pose  any  one  ever  rides  her  but 
you  ?"  said  Virginia,  with  a  suggestion  of 
wistfulness  in  her  low  voice. 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Roden;  "only  the  lad 
who  gives  her  her  gallops.  She  is  as  kind 
as  a  kitten,  but  rather  hot-headed  and  ex 
citable.  Why  do  you  ask?  Would  you 
like  to  ride  her?" 

"  Yes,  of  co'se  I  would,"  said  the  girl, 
calmly ;  "  but  you  needn't  bother ;  I  know 
how  Englishmen  are  'bout  their  horses. 
Some  time,  if  the  boy  as  rides  her  gets  sick, 
if  you'll  let  me  I'll  show  you  whether  I  kin 
ride  or  no." 

"  Your  father  says  you  ride  like  an  Ind 
ian,"  said  Roden. 


76  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

She  moved  her  shoulders  beneath  her 
loose  gray  jacket  with  something  very  like 
a  shrug.  "  I  don't  bleeve  father  ever  saw 
a  Injun  in  his  life,"  she  remarked.  "  You 
wait;  I'll  show  you." 

"  I  don't  doubt  you  have  a  good  seat," 
said  Roden,  pleasantly ;  he  took  particular 
pains  to  speak  pleasantly  always  to  Her- 
rick  and  his  daughter.  "  But  the  chief 
thing  with  a  horse  like  Bonnibel  is  the 
hands.  How  are  you  about  that  ?" 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?"  she  said,  puzzled. 

"  Why,  have  you  nice  light  hands  ?  Are 
you  gentle  in  handling  your  mount  ?" 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  the  comprehensive 
indrawing  of  the  breath  which  he  was  be 
ginning  to  recognize  as  one  of  her  chief 
characteristics.  "  You  mean  am  I  kind 
about  yerkin'  'em.  Well,  I'll  tell  you :  I 
never  pulled  any  rougher  on  a  horse's 
mouth  in  my  life  than  I'd  like  anybody  to 
pull  on  mine." 

"  I  wish  some  of  my  friends  would  take 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  77 

that  for  their  motto,"  said  Roden.  "  I'm 
thinking  I'll  let  you  ride  Bonnibel  some 
time,  if  she  will."  He  ended  with  a  smile. 

It  was  not  more  than  a  week  afterwards 
that  he  had  occasion  to  require  Virginia's 
services.  One  of  the  other  horses,  a  rank, 
irritable  brute,  called  Usurper,  had  jammed 
Roden's  shoulder  quite  severely  against  the 
side  of  the  box,  and  Bonnibel's  own  espe 
cial  groom  had  been  sent  back  to  New 
York  to  bring  on  two  new-comers  but  just 
arrived  from  England. 

"  I  don't  think  she'll  stand  a  riding-skirt," 
he  said,  rather  doubtfully,  as  the  beautiful 
beast  was  led  out,  reaching  after  the  reins 
with  her  supple  neck. 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  ride  her  with  one,"  said 
Virginia. 

He  then  saw  that  Bonnibel  was  saddled 
with  a  man's  saddle,  and  the  next  moment 
the  girl  was  astride  of  the  mare,  the  reins 
gathered  skilfully  into  her  long  brown  fin 
gers,  head  erect,  and  hands  well  down — 


78  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

lithe,  beautiful  with  the  beauty  of  some 
sunburnt,  mountain-bred  boy. 

As  Bonnibel  felt  the  strange  touch  upon 
her  mouth  she  wheeled,  rearing  a  little, 
and  the  girl's  soft  hat  was  shaken  from  her 
head.  Roden  wondered  if  he  had  ever 
seen  anything  prettier  than  the  sunlight  on 
the  young  Virginian's  sun-like  curls,  and 
the  glossy  hide  of  Bonnibel. 

The  mare  was  going  quieter  now,  minc 
ing  along  and  picking  up  her  feet  after  a 
fashion  much  in  vogue  among  equine  co 
quettes.  She  was  beginning  to  like  the 
feel  of  the  light,  firm  hands,  and  to  be 
sensible  of  the  masterly  pressure  of  the 
strong  young  knees  upon  her  mighty  shoul 
ders. 

"  By  Jove !  what  a  graceful  seat  the  lit 
tle  witch  has  got !"  Roden  said  to  himself 
with  sufficient  admiration.  "  And  hands  as 
steady  as  an  old  stager  ! — Gad  !"  This  ex 
clamation,  breaking  forth  at  first  from  an 
impulse  of  terror,  ended  in  the  relieved  an- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  79 

nouncement,  "  That  was  fine ;  as   I  live  it 
was !" 

Bonnibel  had  bolted,  going  straight  for 
a  snake-fence  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill  on 
which  the  stables  were  builded.  To  stop 
her  was,  he  knew,  impossible;  to  turn  her 
aside  on  the  slippery  turf,  more  unreliable 
than  usual  with  the  spring  rains,  would 
have  been  culpably  perilous.  The  fence 
just  here  was  fortunately  not  very  high, 
but  Bonnibel  had  one  serious  fault.  When 
excited,  she  had  a  way  of  going  at  her 
fences  head  down,  after  a  fashion  calcu 
lated  to  break  her  own  neck,  and  certainly 
that  of  the  person  who  rode  her.  He  saw 
the  girl  sit  well  down  in  the  saddle,  run  the 
bit  through  the  mare's  mouth,  and  bring 
her  head  up,  showing  her  the  leap  in  front 
with  a  skill  he  could  not  himself  have 
rivalled ;  and  Roden  was  no  tyro.  Bon 
nibel  cleared  the  rails  in  gallant  form,  and 
Virginia  then  took  her  for  a  canter  around 
the  field  beyond. 


8o  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

She  came  up  to  Roden,  ten  minutes 
later,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  her  great 
eyes  brilliant. 

"If  she  had  a-hurt  herself  then,"  she 
said,  flinging  herself  tempestuously  to  the 
ground,  "  I'd  'a'  got  one  o'  th'  grooms  to 
kill  me."  She  turned  and  showered  the 
mare's  sleek  crest  with  kisses,  then  tossed 
the  reins  to  Roden,  and  ran  swiftly  out  of 
sight  towards  the  house.  He  thought  her 
the  strangest  creature  he  had  ever  seen. 

In  the  mean  time  the  days  wore  on. 
Roden  was  more  than  pleased  with  his  Vir 
ginian  venture.  He  had  three  excellent 
stables  building,  his  gees  were  all  in  first- 
rate  condition,  and  his  prospect  for  the  pro 
vincial  races  more  than  fair. 

Virginia  now  rode  Bonnibel  every  day. 
There  sprung  up  between  the  two,  mare 
and  woman,  one  of  those  mutual  attach 
ments  as  rare  in  reality  as  they  are  com 
mon  in  fiction.  Virginia  could  catch  the 
nervous  beast  when  it  meant  danger  to 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  81 

others  to  come  within  reach  of  her  iron- 
shod  heels.  Virginia  seemed  to  murmur 
a  strange  language  into  her  slender  ears, 
as  certain  in  its  effects  as  the  whisper  of 
the  Roumanians  to  their  horses.  For  Vir 
ginia  would  Bonnibel  become  as  a  spring 
lamb  for  meekness,  or  one  of  her  own 
mountain  -  streams  for  impetuosity.  It  af 
forded  Roden  a  strange  pleasure  to  watch 
the  relations  which  existed  between  this 
beautiful  savage  maiden  and  his  beautiful 
savage  mare. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  found  the  girl 
more  than  useful  to  him.  She  knew  all 
the  owners  of  good  horse-flesh  in  the  sur 
rounding  counties.  She  explored  strange 
woods  with  him,  while  it  came  to  be  an  un 
derstood  thing  that  every  day  she  should 
go  with  him  on  his  long  tramps.  She 
marched  sturdily  at  his  side  through  brake 
and  brier.  She  had  no  skirts  to  tear,  no 
under  -  draperies  of  lace  to  draggle.  She 
was  always  good-tempered  and  never  tired. 
6 


82  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

It  was  one  day  about  the  middle  of 
March  that  they  stood  together  on  a  wind 
blown  hill-side.  A  dark-blue  sky  gleamed 
overhead,  set  thickly  with  clouds  of  a  vivid, 
opaque  white,  like  the  figures  on  antique 
Etruscan  ware.  The  chain  of  distant  hills 
clasped  the  tawny  winter  earth,  as  a  violet 
ribbon  might  clasp  the  dusky  body  of  an 
Eastern  slave.  So  like  was  the  pale  hori 
zon  to  a  sunlit  sea  that  the  white  gleam 
of  a  wood -dove's  wing  across  it  suggest 
ed  instantly  to  them  both  the  idea  of  a 
sail. 

There  was  a  sound,  now  far,  now  near, 
vague,  intermittent,  made  by  the  rushing 
of  the  wind  through  the  dry  grass  in  the 
fields.  The  forlorn  discord  of  the  voices 
of  spring  lambs  reached  their  ears,  together 
with  the  reassuring  monotone  of  the  ewes. 
A  sudden  commotion  among  the  flock 
caused  Virginia  to  run  suddenly  forward, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand. 

"  It's  that  narsty  Erroll  dorg  again !"  she 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  83 

said,  wrathfully.  "  He'll  jess  run  those 
sheep  to  death." 

"  What  dog  ?"  said  Roden,  coming  up 
beside  her.  "  By  Jove !  it's  a  German 
sleuth-hound,"  he  added.  "  I'm  afraid  he'll 
play  the  deuce  with  your  father's  sheep, 
Miss  Virginia." 

"  He  will  so,  ef  he  ain't  stopped,"  she 
said,  gloomily.  "  I  didn't  know  the  Errolls 
had  come  back  to  Windemere.  Plague 
gone  him  !  Look  there,  now !" 

Just  here  came  the  shrill  sound  of  a  dog- 
whistle,  then  a  clear  voice  calling,  "Laurin ! 
Laurin  !  Laurin,  I  say  !" 

They  saw  a  girl  on  a  chestnut  horse, 
galloping  towards  the  terrified,  bleating 
sheep.  She  gained  upon  the  great  hound, 
came  up  with  him,  swung  from  her  saddle, 
and  caught  him  by  the  collar.  After  a  mo 
ment  or  two  she  began  to  walk  towards 
them  through  the  weeds  and  brambles 
which  overgrew  the  hill -side.  As  she 
came  nearer  they  could  see  that  she  held 


84  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

a  lamb  beneath  one  arm.  A  tall,  slight  girl 
in  a  dark  habit,  with  dark  curls  escaping 
about  her  forehead  from  her  very  correct 
pot  hat.  The  hound  followed  meekly.  "  I 
am  so  very,  very  sorry,"  she  called  out, 
while  yet  some  distance  off.  "  I  am  afraid 
my  dog  has  hurt  this  poor  little  thing." 
As  she  came  closer  Roden  saw  that  there 
was  blood  on  the  lamb,  and  on  the  dog's 
dripping  jaws. 

"  Please  look  at  it,"  the  girl  said,  wofully. 
"  I'm  afraid  nothing  will  ever  break  him. 
He  will  have  to  be  sent  away.  They  are 
your  father's  sheep,  aren't  they,  Miss  Her- 
rick — you  are  Miss  Herrick  ?" 

Virginia  lifted  her  full  look  to  the 
stranger's  face.  "  Yes,  that's  my  name," 
she  answered.  "  Why  don't  you  muzzle 
him,  or  keep  him  chained  ?  He'll  get  shot 
some  day." 

The  girl  looked  sadly  down  at  her  huge 
pet.  "  I'm  afraid  he  will,"  she  said,  gently. 
"  I  wish  he  wouldn't  do  it.  I  can't  feel  the 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  85 

same  to  him.  Ah, you  beast!" — this  last  to 
the  recreant  Laurin,  in  a  tone  of  wrath.  In 
the  mean  time  Roden  had  finished  his  ex 
amination  of  the  lamb. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  serious,"  he  said,  kind 
ly  ;  "  but  it  will  have  to  be  looked  after  a 
bit.  Miss  Herrick  here  will  doctor  it  suc 
cessfully,  I've  no  doubt." 

"  Oh,  couldn't  I  have  it  ?"  said  the  girl, 
eagerly.  "  I'm  such  a  good  hand  at  curing 
things.  Do  let  me  have  it,  Miss  Herrick." 

"  Take  it  if  you  want  it,"  said  Virginia. 

"  But  cannot  you  have  it  sent  ?"  said 
Roden,  as  the  girl  held  out  her  hand  for 
the  lamb.  "  I  am  afraid  you  will  get  blood 
all  over  your  habit,  Miss — "  He  had  not 
meant  to  fish  for  her  name,  and  stopped 
abruptly. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  soft  smiling 
of  lips  and  eyes.  "  My  name  is  Erroll — 
Mary  Erroll,"  she  said.  "And  thank  you, 
I  would  rather  take  it.  Laurin  will  follow 
me  now.  Ah,  you  beast !" 


86  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  You  will  have  to  put  it  down  until 
you  mount,"  said  Roden,  laughing  a  little 
in  spite  of  himself,  as  the  old  lines  about 
Mary  and  her  little  lamb  crossed  his  mind. 

"  Oh  no,  I  wouldn't  put  it  down,"  she 
said,  hastily.  "  Miss  Herrick  will  hold  it  for 
me,  won't  you  ? — and  if  you  would  be  so 
kind  as  to  mount  me,  Mr.  Roden." 

"You  know  my  name?"  said  Roden,  as 
he  took  the  slight  foot,  arched  like  Bonni- 
bel's  crest,  into  his  hand. 

"  Why,  who  in  the  neighborhood  does 
not?"  she  said,  settling  herself  in  the  sad 
dle.  "  Not  to  know  you  would  be  to  ar 
gue  one's  self  very  much  unknown  in  this 
neighborhood.  Now  give  me  the  lamb. 
Thank  you  so  much.  Come,  Laurin.  Good- 
by,  Miss  Herrick."  She  placed  the  lamb 
carefully  against  her  side,  whistled  to  the 
hound,  and  started  off  at  a  round  trot.  Her 
figure,  in  its'  trim  Quorn-cloth  habit,  came 
into  bold  relief  against  the  vivid  sky.  He 
watched  admiringly  the  long  supple  waist 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  87 

as  it  swayed  to  the  motion  of  the  horse,  the 
bold  graceful  sweep  of  the  shoulders,  and 
high  carnage  of  the  small  head.  He  had 
read  so  much  concerning  the  gathers  and 
gilt  braid  of  the  Virginian  horsewoman 
that  it  struck  him  as  something  entirely 
strange,  the  fact  that  Miss  Mary  Erroll 
should  wear  a  neat,  well-cut  habit,  and  a 
chimney-pot  hat.  He  also  recalled  that 
her  saddle  was  all  that  it  should  be,  and 
that  instead  of  the  gold-and-ivory-handled 
cutting  whip  which  he  had  been  led  to  ex 
pect,  she  carried  a  light  but  sturdy  crop. 

"  By  Jove !  how  she  rides !"  he  said  to 
himself. 

"Don't  I  ride  as  well?"  came  the  soft 
monotone  of  Virginia  at  his  ear. 

He  answered  her,  still  with  his  eyes  on 
the  vanishing  figure  of  the  girl  in  the 
Quorn- cloth  habit.  "You  ride  like  an 
Arab,"  he  said.  "  She  rides  like — like — 
like  an  Englishwoman. 

"You  don't  think   I   ride  as  well,"  said 


88  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Virginia,  in  an  indescribable  voice,  turning 
away.  She  was  filled  with  an  unreason 
ing,  unchristian,  wholly  uncivilized  desire  to 
mount  Bonnibel,  overtake,  and  spatter  Miss 
Mary  Erroll  with  as  much  mud  as  possible. 
Suddenly  she  turned  and  came  back  to 
Roden.  "  I — I — I  s'pose  you  think  a  gyrl 
oughtn'  to  ride  straddle  ?"  she  said,  with 
an  unusual  hint  of  timidity  in  her  rich 
tones. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  there's  any  harm 
in  it,"  he  said,  carelessly.  Again  she  stood 
away  from  him.  A  feeling  of  utterly  unrea 
sonable  anger  and  rebellion  was  swelling  in 
her  heart  and  straining  her  throat.  Was 
it  against  Miss  Mary  Erroll  or  against 
Roden  ?  She  could  not  herself  have  told. 
One  fact  was  entirely  apparent  to  her:  he 
did  not  deem  what  she  did  or  did  not  do 
things  worthy  his  consideration. 

"  I  bet  she  couldn't  ride  Bonnibel !"  she 
said,  passionately,  between  her  locked  teeth, 
as  she  went  blindly  on  through  the  furze 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  89 

and  briers.  "  I  bet  she  couldn't  ride  Bon- 
nibel — straddle  or  no  straddle !" 

It  was  not  until  three  days  later  that 
she  found  out  from  her  father  the  fact  oi 
Roden's  having  been  to  call  (nominally) 
upon  the  lamb  of  Miss  Mary  Erroll. 

"  The  beauty  of  the  question  air,"  ended 
that  modern  Solomon,  as  he  filled  his  white 
clay  pipe  — "  The  beauty  of  the  question 
air,  that  thar  gyrl  cert'n'y  is  goin'  to  lead 
that  young  fellar  a  darnce.  They  say  she's 
got  it  down  ter  a  fine  p'int." 

"  What  ?"  said  Virginia,  curtly. 

"  Why,  coquettin' — hyah !  hyah  !  Thafs 
the  darnce  she'll  lead  him.  'N'  they  sez, 
moresomever,  as  how  th'  English  fellars 
takes  to  her  like  the  partridges  ter  th' 
woods — plague  'em !— 'count  o'  her  w'arin' 
boots  like  a  man,  an'  skirts  at  harf-marst 
when  she  goes  out  on  hawseback.  Lawd ! 
I  cert'n'y  do  'spise  ter  see  a  woman  hitched 
onter  th'  side  uv  er  hawse  like  a  pecker- 
wood  a-stickin'  ter  rer  tree-trunk !" 


90  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Virginia  came  and  leaned  on  the  back 
of  his  chair,  picking  some  bits  of  straw 
from  his  many-hued  waistcoat.  "  You  don't 
think  it's  any  harm  for  a  girl  to  ride  strad 
dle,  do  you,  father  ?"  she  said,  slowly. 

"  Harm !"  said  old  Herrick,  twisting  about 
in  his  chair  to  look  up  at  her — "  harm  /"  He 
set  his  pipe  firmly  between  his  teeth,  and 
pushed  out  his  underlip  with  an  expression  of 
entire  scorn.  "  Is  there  any  harm  in  a  hop- 
pergrass  hoppin'?"  he  questioned.  "G'long! 
don'  talk  none  o'  yo'  nonsense  ter  me  !" 

This,  however,  did  not  entirely  satisfy 
her  on  the  question  in  point. 

Roden  was  not  a  little  astonished  to  meet 
her,  as  she  returned  from  giving  Bonnibel 
her  morning  gallop,  in  a  very  fair  imitation 
of  Miss  Mary  Erroll's  habit,  and  an  old  pot 
hat  that  had  evidently  belonged  to  some 
one  of  the  previous  Englishmen. 

"  Why,  what  a  swell  you  are !"  he  said, 
pleasantly,  joining  her.  "  But  how  does 
Bonnibel  like  the  change  ?" 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  91 

"  It  don't  make  any  diff'r'nce  how  she 
likes  it,"  said  Miss  Herrick,  curtly,  adding 
hastily,  with  a  swift  change  of  manner, 
"  She  r'ared  once  or  twice  at  first,  but 
that's  all."  Then  she  stopped  suddenly,  and 
stepped  around  in  front  of  him.  "  How — 
how  does  it  look — really  ?"  she  said,  with  a 
shamefaced  and  comprehensive  downward 
glance  at  her  skirt. 

"  It  looks  awfully  well,"  Roden  assured 
her — "  awfully  well.  How  tall  and  strong 
you  are,  Miss  Virginia !" 

"  I've  got  a  right  good  mustle,"  she  said, 
showing  her  handsome  teeth  in  one  of  her 
rare  and  vivid  smiles.  "  Mornin' :  I've  got 
a  heap  to  do." 

Roden  watched  her  as  she  stalked  away 
with  her  splendid  swinging  stride,  thinking 
vaguely  of  her  beauty  and  its  absolute  waste 
in  her  position.  "  She'll  marry  some  *  po' 
white '  who  talks  as  much  like  a  nigger  as 
her  own  father,"  he  thought,  half  regret 
fully;  "have  a  lot  of  children,  and  end  by 


92  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

smoking  a  pipe — ugh !"  He  then  went  to 
call,  for  the  third  time  that  week,  upon  Mary 
Erroll.  The  visit  ended  by  their  going  for 
a  ride,  and  just  as  they  neared  the  gates  of 
Caryston  a  smart  shower  came  pelting  down 
the  eastern  slope  of  Peter's  Mountain. 

"  Do  come  in  and  wait  until  this  is  over," 
he  said,  urgently,  bending  from  his  horse 
to  open  the  long  gray  gate,  which  was  now 
proudly  supported  on  strong  hinges.  "  Miss 
Herrick  will  chaperon  us." 

"Why,  of  course  I'll  come,"  she  said, 
amazed,  in  her  Southern  freedom,  that  he 
should  pause  to  question  the  propriety  of 
her  so  doing.  At  one  o'clock  in  the  day, 
and  with  her  little  darky  henchman  mount 
ing  guard,  what  possible  objection  could 
any  one  find  ?  She  ran  up  the  stone  steps 
with  a  pretty  clattering  of  her  boots,  and 
Roden  threw  wide  the  doors  of  the  great 
hall.  She  was  delighted  with  everything; 
got  on  a  chair  to  examine  the  great  moose- 
head  ;  struck  some  chords  on  an  old  harp 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  93 

that  she  discovered  in  a  dark  corner;  made 
friends  with  the  collie  and  one  of  the  Per 
sian  cats,  who  came  purring  up  from  the 
recess  of  a  distant  window ;  looked  over 
his  collection  of  curious  weapons ;  and  on 
finding  that  he  had  spent  some  years  of  his 
life  in  Mexico,  questioned  him  about  his  ex 
periences  there  with  a  pretty  assumption  of 
almost  motherly  interest. 

"Can't  you  say  some — some  Mexican?" 
she  said.  "  I  should  so  like  .to  hear  it." 

"  I  love  you,  most  beautiful  of  maidens," 
said  Roden,  lazily,  in  the  Mexican  patois. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  It  sounds  en 
chanting." 

"  It  means  enchantment." 

She  leaned  suddenly  forward  and  looked 
at  him  with  her  bright,  soft,  childishly  chaste 
eyes.  "  Mr.  Roden,"  she  said,  sweetly,  "  if  I 
were  not  very  sure  you  were  only  laughing, 
I  should  accuse  you  of  trying  to  ensnare 
my  simple  country  soul  with  a  spurious 
sentimentality." 


94  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Roden  roused  himself  from  his  lounging 
position  in  one  of  the  big  hall  chairs  with 
a  jerk.  An  expression  half  of  amusement, 
half  of  guilt,  crossed  his  handsome  sun 
burnt  face.  "  You  are  very  unjust,"  he 
said.  "  I  am  certainly  not  laughing,  and  I 
couldn't  be  sentimental  if  I  tried." 

"Oh!  oh!"  she  said,  with  her  pretty 
Southern  accent.  "  How  very,  how  rudely 
unflattering !" 

"  I  meant  I  would  not  have  to  try  to  be 
so  —  with  you,"  said  Roden,  dexterously 
mendacious. 

"  How  very,  how  rudely  untruthful !" 

They  were  here  told  by  Popocatepetl  that 
"  lunch  dun  rade-y." 

Roden's  meals  were  generally  presided 
over  by  Virginia,  and  she  came  forward  to 
meet  him  now  with  a  little  silver  dish  of 
apples  in  one  hand,  evidently  utterly  igno 
rant  of  the  presence  of  Mary  Erroll.  She 
stopped  short,  half-way  across  the  room.  A 
shadow  as  definite  and  sombre  as  the  shad- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  95 

ow  from  a  brilliant  cloud  upon  a  laughing 
grass-field  in  May  settled  over  her  face. 

"  I'll  have  to  fix  another  place,"  she  said, 
curtly,  and  turned  he'r  back  upon  them  in 
order  to  do  so. 

Miss  Erroll  expressed  herself  charmed 
with  her  luncheon.  She  ate  bread  and 
honey  with  all  the  gusto  of  the  queen  of 
nursery  lore,  taking  off  her  riding-gloves 
and  showing  long,  flower-like  hands,  that 
were  reflected  as  whitely  in  the  polished 
mahogany  of  the  round  table  as  the  pale 
primroses  which  adorned  its  centre. 

Virginia  moved  about  noiselessly.  All 
at  once  she  stopped  beside  Roden,  and  put 
one  hand  heavily  on  the  back  of  his  chair. 
He  looked  up  in  some  surprise.  Her  eyes 
were  flashing  under  her  bent  brows,  like 
the  "  brush  fires  "  of  her  native  State  under 
a  night  horizon. 

"  I'll  wait  on  you"  she  said,  in  a  smoth 
ered  voice — "  I  say  I'll  wait  on  you,  but  I 
wont  wait  on  her"  She  dashed  down  his 


96  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

napkin,  which  she  had  lifted  from  the  floor, 
and  strode  with  her  swift,  noiseless  move 
ments  to  the  door. 

"Virginia!"  said  Roden,  aghast — "Vir 
ginia  !" 

"  I  don't  care !"  cried  the  girl,  passionate 
ly,  swinging  open  the  heavy  door — "  I  don't 
care !  I  ain't  anybody's  nigger !" 

She  rushed  out  tempestuously,  dragging 
from  one  or  two  rings  the  heavy  portiere, 
which  with  a  native  incongruity  hung  be 
fore  the  door  itself. 

"  How  vulgarity  will  crop  out !"  said  Ro 
den,  rising  to  shut  the  door.  "  That  poor 
little  girl  has  behaved  so  well  until  to-day !" 

That  evening,  as  he  sat  writing  in  a  lit 
tle  room  opening  into  the  dining-room,  Vir 
ginia  entered,  and  came  and  stood  beside 
him.  He  did  not  look  up.  She  had  an 
noyed  him  a  good  deal,  and  he  was  not 
prepared  to  yield  the  forgiveness  for  which 
he  felt  she  had  come  to  plead.  She  stood 
there  some  moments  quite  silent,  then 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  97 

reached  over  his  shoulder  and  dropped 
something  on  the  table  before  him. 

"  You  said  th'  other  day  you  wanted  one 
for  the  silver.  There  'tis,"  she  said.  She 
turned  before  he  could  speak,  and  left  the 
room. 

Lifting  the  crimson  mass  from  the  table, 
he  saw  that  it  was  an  old-fashioned  purse 
of  netted  silk,  secured  by  little  steel  rings. 
He  recalled  a  speech  which  he  had  made  a 
day  or  two  ago  concerning  the  inconven 
ience  of  modern  purses  as  regarded  silver 
currency.  He  started  up  and  opened  the 
door,  calling  the  girl  by  name  two  or  three 
times.  No  one  answered,  and  he  went 
down  the  hall  and  into  Herrick's  room. 

The  overseer  was  there,  whittling  some 
thing  by  the  light  of  a  smoking  kerosene 
lamp.  Aunt  Tishy  was  there,  grumbling 
to  herself  about  "folks  cuttin'  trash  all 
over  de  flo'  fur  her  ter  break  her  pore  ole 
back  over."  The  raccoon  was  very  much 
there,  as  he  seemed  to  be  having  a  fit  just 
7 


98  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

as  Roden  entered.  But  there  was  no  Vir 
ginia.  Her  spinning-wheel  stood  idle  in 
its  corner;  her  heavy  boots  were  drying  in 
front  of  the  wood  fire ;  there  was  a  book, 
face  down,  upon  the  deal  table  —  a  book 
which  she  must  have  been  reading,  as  no 
one  else  at  Caryston  besides  Roden  ever 
glanced  between  the  covers  of  one. 

He  lifted  it,  expecting  to  find  some  Dora- 
Thornesque  romance  of  high  life.  It  was  a 
condensed  copy  of  "  Youatt  on  the  Horse," 
and  beneath  it  was  a  racing  calendar  for 
'79.  Alas !  alas !  even  this  discovery  told 
nothing  else  to  this  otherwise  discerning 
young  man.  He  smiled  as  he  put  down 
the  volumes,  thinking  that  the  little  Virgin 
ian  was  bent  on  making  him  acknowledge 
her  a  superior  horsewoman  in  all  respects. 

He  then  inquired  of  Herrick  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  Virginia.  Neither  the  girl's 
father  nor  Aunt  Tishy  could  tell  him. 

"  If  you'll  lend  me  a  pencil  I'll  just  leave 
a  note  for  her,"  he  said,  feeling  instinctively 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  99 

that  she  would  not  care  to  have  a  message 
in  regard  to  her  little  gift  left  with  her  fa 
ther  or  the  old  negress. 

He  scribbled  a  few  words  on  one  of  the 
fly-leaves  of  the  racing  calendar,  tore  it  out, 
folded  it  securely,  and  handed  it  to  Herrick. 

"  Please  give  that  to  your  daughter  when 
she  comes  back,"  he  said.  "  Good-night," 
and  left  the  room. 

Old  Herrick  waited  until  he  heard  the 
distant  clang  of  the  dining-room  door;  then 
he  settled  his  spectacles  very  carefully 
upon  his  large  nose,  pushed  out  his  under- 
lip,  and  unfolding  the  little  note,  thrust  it 
almost  into  the  flame  of  the  lamp  while 
reading  it. 

"'DEAR  Miss  FAGINIA'  (Humph!),— 
'Many  thanks  fur  yo'  beeyeutiful  purse. 
I  will  alluz  keep  hit.  Very  truly  yours, 

*"J.  RODEN.'" 

"  Humph  !"  ejaculated  Herrick  again — 
"  humph !" 


ioo  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

He  set  one  long,  knotty  hand  back  down 
against  his  side,  and  turned  the  bit  of  paper 
about  scornfully  between  the  thumb  and 
forefinger  of  his  other  hand,  regarding  it 
the  while  over  his  spectacles.  "  Humph  !" 
he  said  for  the  fourth  time. 


IV. 

IT  was  one  o'clock  on  that  same  night. 
Virginia  Herrick  leaned  with  round  bare 
arms  on  the  table,  above  which  hung  a  lit 
tle  oblong,  old-fashioned  mirror  in  a  warped 
mahogany  frame.  The  one  candle  on  a 
little  bracket  at  her  right  hand,  brought  out 
the  clear  tones  in  her  face  and  throat  and 
arms,  and  dived  vividly  into  her  masses  of 
loosened  hair;  beyond  her  was  a  back 
ground  of  vague  shadows  ;  she  looked  from 
the  tarnished  mirror  like  a  painting  from 
its  frame.  Her  eyes  were  sombre  and 
heavy  under  their  dark  lids.  The  light 
falling  down  upon  her  sent  long  delicate 
shadows  trembling  upon  her  cheeks — shad 
ows  such  as  are  made  by  the  bending  of 
summer  grasses  across  a  woman's  white 
gown,  and  which  in  Virginia's  case  were 
cast  by  her  thick,  curled  lashes. 


IO2  Virginia  of  Virginia, 

She  had  taken  off  the  waist  of  her  home 
spun  dress,  and  the  folds  of  her  much-gath 
ered  chemise  assumed  a  silvery  tone  in  the 
concentrated  light.  The  contrast  between 
the  dead  white  of  the  stuff  and  the  living 
white  of  her  neck  and  arms  was  as  perfect 
as  when  Southern  peach-trees,  blossoming 
before  their  time,  are  seen  next  day  against 
vast  fields  of  snow. 

One  of  the  Persian  cats  leaped  with  soft 
agility  upon  the  table,  and  passed  purring 
between  the  girl  and  her  fair  image  in  the 
dingy  glass ;  she  swept  him  from  her  way 
with  one  sure  motion  of  her  strong  bare 
arm,  and  returned  to  her  intent  scrutiny  of 
her  own  face. 

The  time  passed  on.  A  rat  began  an 
intermittent  nibbling  in  the  old  wainscot 
ing  of  the  room  ;  sharp,  sudden  noises  were 
heard  overhead ;  the  fire  died  out  in  tink 
ling  silence ;  a  heavy  shroud  of  semi-trans 
parent  tallow  wrapped  the  one  candle. 
Two  o'clock  had  sounded  through  the  hoi- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  103 

low  depths  of  the  old  house  some  time  ago. 
Suddenly  she  spoke.  "  I  wisht  I  knew  ef 
I  war  pretty,"  she  said.  Then,  with  pas 
sionate  reiterance,  "  I  wisht  I  knew  ef  I 
war  pretty." 

The  cat,  hearing  her  voice,  leaped  again 
beside  her,  as  if  to  answer ;  again  she  swept 
him  to  the  floor.  The  soft,  cushioned  thud 
of  his  feet  against  the  bare  boards  sounded 
quite  distinctly  upon  the  silence,  so  alert  to 
catch  every  noise.  "  Oh,  I  wisht — I  wisht  I 
knew  ef  I  war  pretty,"  she  said  once  more. 

Poor  little  savage,  you  are  pretty  indeed 
— with  a  prettiness  which  civilization 
would  give  many  of  its  privileges  to  pos 
sess.  So,  I  doubt  not,  were  fashioned  the 
wood-nymphs  of  old,  with  strength  and 
with  health  and  with  grace  beyond  all 
power  of  reproduction — even  so  have  they 
gazed  deep  into  their  woodland  lakes;  and 
the  lakes,  did  they  not  answer  ?  Who  but 
Beauty  was  ever  mother  of  such  curves 
and  tints  ? 


IO4  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

This  time  she  put  another  question.  "  I 
wisht  I  knew  ef — it — pleased — him? 

She  had  yielded  up  her  secret  to  the  old 
mirror,  and  to  Hafiz — what  better  confi 
dants  ?  The  one  had  no  tongue ;  the  oth 
er  a  tongue  used  only  for  lapping  unlim 
ited  supplies  of  Alderney  cream. 

With  a  sudden  movement  she  leaned 
forward  and  blew  out  the  sputtering  can 
dle.  She  did  not  wish  even  her  own  eyes 
in  the  mirror  to  pry  upon  her. 

Three  days  later  Roden  and  Usurper 
figured  in  a  hurdle  race  of  some  note  in 
the  neighborhood. 

This  Usurper  was  by  King  Tom,  out  of 
Uarda,  and  as  rank  a  brute  as  ever  went 
headlong  at  his  hurdle,  often  taking  off 
nearly  a  length  too  soon.  Virginia,  who 
had  seen  him  day  after  day  at  his  work, 
ventured  timidly  to  suggest  to  Roden  that 
one  of  the  lads  should  ride  the  horse.  He 
laughed,  and  told  her  he  had  thought  her 
above  that  very  ordinary  failing  of  women 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  105 

— nervousness.  She  said  nothing  more, 
turning  short  on  her  heel  with  the  cus 
tomary  dissenting  movement  of  her  fine 
shoulders. 

These  races  were  to  be  quite  a  swell  af 
fair,  and  there  were  a  good  many  carriages 
outside  of  the  course.  Miss  Erroll  and  her 
mother,  sunk  deep  in  an  old-fashioned  lan 
dau,  talked  to  Roden  as  he  leaned  on  the 
side  of  the  carriage,  very  brown  and  gallant 
in  his  racing-togs. 

Virginia  was  seated  on  Pokeberry,  not 
three  yards  off.  She  watched  curiously 
each  movement  of  Miss  Erroll,  dwelling 
with  strained,  wondering  eyes  upon  her 
pretty  wrinkled  gloves  ;  her  close  -  fitting 
corsage  of  white  serge ;  her  little  dark-red 
velvet  toque ;  her  parasol,  a  vivid  arrange 
ment  of  cream-color  and  red,  which  made  a 
charming  plaque -like  background  for  her 
fair  face ;  she  also  noticed  the  posy  of  blue 
and  white  flowers  which  was  pinned  on  the 
left  side  against  the  white  bodice  of  Miss  Er- 


io6  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

roll.  Roden's  colors  were  blue  and  white. 
Virginia  herself  had  a  little  knot  of  white 
and  blue  hyacinths  on  her  riding-habit; 
she  jerked  them  out  with  a  savage  move 
ment,  tossed  them  on  the  ground,  and  care 
fully  guided  the  hoofs  of  Pokeberry  upon 
them. 

All  unconscious  was  she  that  in  her  eyes, 
blue  now  with  anger,  and  her  cheeks  so 
white  with  pain,  she  wore  his  colors  whether 
she  would  or  not. 

There  were  two  races  before  the  one  in 
which  he  rode.  Then  he  went  off  to  be 
weighed,  and  Virginia  dismounted  from 
Pokeberry,  and  gave  a  little  nigger  a  cent 
or  two  to  hold  the  mare. 

She  went  and  leaned  against  the  railing, 
waiting  for  the  start.  All  went  well  enough 
until  the  finish.  Roden  came  sweeping 
down  the  homestretch  in  an  easy  canter, 
Usurper  well  in  hand  and  going  game  as 
a  pebble,  and  one  more  hurdle  to  jump. 

Virginia  held  her  breath ;  she  had  a  hor- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  107 

rible  certainty  that  Usurper  would  refuse 
that  last  hurdle,  or  do  something  equally 
idiotic.  Roden  sent  him  at  it  in  fine  form. 
There  was  a  second  of  expectancy,  a  smart 
crash,  and  then  Usurper,  scrambling  heavi 
ly  to  his  feet,  tore  off  down  the  course,  leav 
ing  a  mass  of  blue  and  white  half  under  the 
debris  of  the  hurdle.  The  brute  had  not 
risen  an  inch,  and  had  flung  Roden  head 
first  into  the  hurdle,  himself  turning  a  com 
plete  somersault. 

On  came  the  other  horses,  ten  of  them, 
in  full  gallop.  Mary  Erroll  stood  on  her 
feet,  with  a  little  broken  cry.  Some  men, 
until  now  paralyzed  with  astonishment  and 
horror,  started  forward;  but  swifter  than 
all,  unhesitating,  strong  of  arm  as  of  nerve, 
Herrick's  daughter,  diving  beneath  the  rail, 
rushed  out  into  the  middle  of  the  track,  and 
seizing  the  senseless  man  beneath  his  arms 
dragged  him  by  main  force  out  of  the  way 
of  the  coming  horses.  The  hoof  of  one  of 
them,  however,  struck  her  on  her  left  shoul- 


io8  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

der,  taking  a  good  bit  of  flesh  and  cloth 
clean  away  as  though  with  a  knife. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  blood  about 
Roden's  head — some  at  first  thought  that 
he  was  seriously  injured.  They  carried 
him  into  a  tent  and  sent  for  a  surgeon.  In 
an  hour  he  was  all  right,  however,  and 
wrote  a  few  words  upon  some  little  ivory 
tablets,  sent  him  by  Miss  Erroll  for  that 
purpose,  to  assure  her  of  his  entire  recov 
ery.  Mary  then  sent  to  ask  if  Miss  Her- 
rick  would  not  be  so  very  kind  as  to  come 
and  speak  to  her.  The  girl  came,  sullenly 
enough,  touching  from  time  to  time  the 
bandages  about  her  left  shoulder,  as  though 
restless  under  even  so  slight  a'restraint. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  so  very,  very 
much,"  said  Mary,  in  her  sweetest  voice. 
She  leaned  far  out  of  the  landau  and  held 
out  her  hand  to  Virginia. 

"What  a' you  thankin'  me  fur?"  demand 
ed  the  girl,  fiercely,  stepping  backward  from 
the  extended  hand.  "You  ain't  got  nothin' 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  109 

to  thank  me  fur — have  you?"  she  ended, 
with  a  sudden  change  from  aggressiveness 
to  appeal  infinitely  pathetic. 

A  swift  red  had  dyed  Mary's  face  at  the 
first  reception  of  her  kindly  meant  advances. 
It  faded  out  now,  leaving  her  very  pale. 

"  Every  one  who  is  a  friend  of  Mr.  Roden 
ought  to  thank  you,  if  they  do  not,"  she 
said,  with  great  dignity.  "  I  am  sorry  I 
spoke,  since  it  has  been  so  disagreeable  to 
you.  Good-morning." 

Virginia  was  dismissed — she  felt  it.  The 
knowledge  went  scorching  through  her 
veins  as  kirsch  through  the  veins  of  one 
not  accustomed  to  its  fire.  She  hated  the 
girl  with  a  mad,  barbaric  impulse,  which 
was  as  much  beyond  her  control  as  its  tides 
are  beyond  the  control  of  the  ocean ;  she 
felt  an  animosity  to  Miss  Erroll's  very  hat, 
to  her  pretty  parasol  with  its  bunch  of  red 
velvet  ribbons  on  the  bamboo  handle.  She 
would  have  liked  to  seize  and  tear  them  to 
pieces,  as  a  humming-bird  tears  the  flower 


no  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

which  has  refused  its  honey.  A  red  mist 
rose  to  her  eyes.  The  Erroll  carriage  and 
its  occupants  seemed  to  be  melting  away 
and  away  in  a  golden  haze.  She  stepped 
backward,  keeping  her  eyes  on  it,  as  a  fas 
cinated  bird  looks  ever  on  the  serpent  that 
has  charmed  it. 

"I  hate  her— I  hate  her— I  hate  her," 
she  said,  back  of  her  teeth,  not  fiercely,  as 
she  had  at  first  spoken,  but  with  a  dull  as- 
sertiveness. 

She  refused  several  offers  from  kindly 
neighbors  who  would  have  driven  her 
home.  She  could  ride  quite  well,  she  said, 
without  using  her  left  arm. 

The  evening  was  lowering  and  purple 
towards  the  north-east,  full  of  vague  shad 
ows  and  noises  of  homeward  creatures. 
The  west  was  aglare  as  with  floating  gold 
en  ribbons  from  some  mighty,  unseen  May 
pole  behind  the  luridly  dark  mountains. 

The  slanting  light  touched  the  crests  of 
the  clods  in  a  newly  ploughed  field  to  her 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  1 1 1 

left  with  a  vivid  effect,  remindful  of  the 
light-capped  wavelets  on  an  evening  bay. 
Farther  on  it  was  long,  glistening  stalks  of 
fodder  which  caught  the  level  gleaming 
from  the  west,  as  might  the  rifles  of  a  regi 
ment  that  has  been  ordered  to  fire  lying 
down.  The  fresh  green  hollows  of  the  hills 
were  full  of  a  palpable  golden  ether,  like 
cups  of  emerald  brimmed  with  the  lucent 
amber  drink  of  other  days. 

A  leather-winged  bat  brushed  against 
her  cheek,  flying  heavily  into  some  broom- 
straw  just  beyond.  She  saw  nothing,  felt 
nothing,  heard  nothing  beyond  the  dark 
hours  ahead  of  her,  the  heavy  aching  of 
her  heart,  and  its  loud  monotonous  beating, 
to  which  she  unconsciously  set  words  as 
one  does  to  the  iterant  chatter  of  a  clock. 

"  Yes,  he  loves  her — yes,  he  loves  her," 
so  it  seemed  to  say,  over  and  over,  again 
and  again.  Almost  she  could  have  torn  it 
from  her  breast  and  flung  it  from  her,  had 
not  it  been  sacred  to  her  for  the  love  of 


112  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

him  with  which  it  was  filled.  Think  of  it ; 
try  to  imagine  it.  A  woman  fully  devel 
oped,  heart  and  body  full  of  the  South  from 
bright  head  to  nimble  feet,  as  the  South  is 
full  of  beauty;  free  as  the  birds  that  cleaved 
her  native  air  with  strong,  untiring  wings ; 
unlearned  in  all  emotion  whether  of  love  or 
of  hate ;  not  weary  in  sense  or  perception  ; 
untutored,  unknowing,  uncivilized — and  lov 
ing  for  the  first  time  in  all  her  one-and- 
twenty  years  of  living ! 

There  was  no  analysis  here,  no  picking 
to  pieces  of  little  emotions,  no  skewering 
of  butterfly  passions  to  sheets  of  paper 
from  the  book  of  former  knowledge.  No 
comparison  between  then  and  now  —  be 
tween  now  and  what  might  possibly  have 
been  had  the  bits  of  glass  in  the  kaleido 
scope  of  existence  assumed  a  certain  dif 
ference  of  juxtaposition.  She  loved  him. 
Why  she  loved  him,  how  she  loved  him, 
she  could  no  more  have  told  you  than  she 
could  have  told  the  names  of  the  different 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  113 

elements  which  composed  the  tears  with 
which  her  hot  eyes  brimmed. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  of  that  same  even 
ing.  Roden,  restless  and  feverish,  flung 
from  side  to  side  on  an  old  leathern  sofa 
in  the  library.  There  were  no  candles,  but 
a  great  fire  of  chestnut-wood  sought  and 
found  all  such  points  as  were  capable  of 
illumination  in  the  sombre  old  room — the 
brass  claw  feet  of  the  tables  and  chairs,  the 
great  brass  hinges  of  the  rosewood  book 
case,  the  glass  knobs  on  an  old  writing-desk 
in  one  corner,  Roden's  eyes  and  hair  as  he 
lay  listlessly  resigned  for  a  moment  or  two 
staring  into  the  noisy  labyrinths  of  the 
flames. 

It  was  half  an  hour  later.  The  leaping 
flames  had  settled  as  in  sleep  upon  a  bed 
of  red-gold  coals;  a  little  ever-ascending 
spiral  of  gray-white  smoke  escaped  from 
a  cleft  in  the  end  of  one  of  the  half-burned 
logs.  The  old  chimney-place  was  like  a 

vivid   picture   set   in   the   dark   wall.     Its 
8 


H4  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

yawning  black  throat,  heavily  clogged  with 
soot,  was  tinged  faintly  for  some  way  up 
by  the  glow  from  the  lurid  mass  on  the 
hearth.  The  great  iron  fire-dogs,  at  least 
four  feet  in  height,  were  connected  from 
shaft  to  shaft  by  a  chain  in  grotesque  sug 
gestion  of  the  Siamese  twins.  The  much- 
burnt  bricks  had  assumed  opaline  tones, 
in  rosy  grays  and  greenish-yellows,  beneath 
the  intense  heat  and  light.  On  the  hearth 
rug  the  collie  lay  stretched,  his  ruffled  legs 
every  now  and  then  executing  an  unavail 
ing  canter,  as  in  his  dreams  perchance  he 
chased  a  soaring  buzzard. 

They  were  all  three  asleep — the  fire,  the 
collie,  Roden.  A  soft  crooning  wind,  con 
ducive  to  slumber,  sighed  at  the  doors  and 
windows,  vibrating  every  once  in  a  while 
with  sonorous  minor  cadences. 

Suddenly  the  incessant  monotone  was 
snapped,  as  it  were,  to  silence.  The  door 
leading  into  the  library  had  been  opened ; 
some  one  entered  cautiously,  stood  still ; 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  115 

then    the    door    was    again    closed    noise 
lessly. 

The  person  who  had  entered  crept  for 
ward  a  pace  or  two.  It  was  Virginia. 
She  had  not  yet  taken  off  her  riding-habit, 
and  the  bandages  were  yet  about  her  shoul 
der.  Some  dark  stains  here  and  there  told 
where  the  blood  had  soaked  through.  As 
she  came  forward,  nearer  to  the  rich  lam 
bency  of  the  fire,  her  white  face  borrowed 
some  of  its  roseate  flush,  but  the  lines  of 
pain,  mental  and  physical,  were  traced  as 
with  a  fine  chisel  about  the  sombre  mouth 
and  eyes.  Stealing  past  the  foot  of  the 
sofa  on  which  Roden  lay,  she  stood  a  mo 
ment  looking  at  him.  Her  crossed  wrists 
pressed  each  other  hard  against  her  bosom, 
her  long  fingers  drawing  the  stuff  of  her 
habit  in  wrinkles  with  the  tenseness  of 
their  grasp  upon  it.  Her  breast  rose  and 
fell,  impatient,  eager,  behind  the  close  pris 
on  of  her  arms,  as  some  woodland  thing  so 
held  might  seek  to  be  free.  All  at  once 


1 1 6  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

she  sank  down  to  her  knees  upon  the 
hearth-rug,  lifting  both  hands  to  her  bent 
face,  and  rocking  herself  to  and  fro  with 
wild,  swaying  movements  of  her  supple 
body.  The  collie  raised  his  head  with  a 
drowsy  curiosity,  and  let  it  fall  heavily 
again  upon  the  floor.  The  varying  mon 
ody  of  the  wind  had  begun  again  through 
the  chinks  in  the  closed  door. 

At  last  she  lifted  her  head,  letting  her 
clasped  hands  fall  loosely  into  her  lap.  A 
sudden  flame  showed  her  with  an  added 
vividness  the  face  of  Roden  as  he  lay  in 
tired  unconsciousness  upon  the  old  lounge. 
She  moved  nearer  to  him,  still  on  her 
knees ;  then  again  lifting  her  hands  to  her 
bosom,  leaned  forward  and  gazed  upon 
him  as  though  one  should  drink  with  the 
eyes.  Her  great  braids,  ruffled  and  half 
unplaited,  followed  the  lithe  curves  of  her 
back  with  glittering  undulations,  as  of  two 
mated  golden  serpents.  So  passed  some 
moments. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  117 

Presently,  as  though  uneasy,  even  in  the 
far-off  Land  of  Nod,  beneath  those  move 
less,  hungry,  beautiful  eyes,  the  young  man 
stirred,  and  muttered  something  in  his 
sleep.  Swift  and  noiseless  as  a  cat  she 
leaped  backward  into  the  folded  shadows; 
but  he  did  not  wake.  Once  more  she 
came  forward.  With  a  stealthy  movement 
she  drew  out  a  little  pair  of  scissors  from 
the  bosom  of  her  dress ;  then  bending  over, 
lifted,  with  the  touch  of  a  butterfly  upon 
a  flower,  one  of  Roden's  much-tossed  curls. 
There  was  the  sharp  hiss  of  steel  through 
hair,  and  the  soft  brown  semicircle  lay  in 
the  girl's  palm.  She  lifted  it  to  her  lips 
with  the  gesture  of  one  who,  half  starved, 
suddenly  finds  bread  within  his  grasp ; 
then  turning,  she  stole  out  again,  even  as 
she  had  entered. 


V. 

RODEN  was  not  able  to  leave  the  house 
for  many  days.  During  this  time  Virgin 
ia  waited  upon  him,  sang  to  him,  brought 
into  service  her  every  power  of  amuse 
ment. 

She  coaxed  her  perverse  "  mammy "  to 
teach  her  new  darky  songs  by  reading  end 
less  chapters  in  the  Bible.  All  her  spare 
time  was  spent  in  setting  them  to  appropri 
ate  accompaniments.  She  would  sit  and 
recount  absurd  anecdotes  to  him  by  the 
hour  in  her  slow,  sweet  monotone,  as  un- 
suggestive  of  anything  humorous  as  can 
well  be  imagined.  Sometimes  she  fetched 
her  spinning-wheel  and  spun  as  she  talked. 
He  felt  vexed  with  himself  that  he  could 
not  sketch  her  as  she  sat  plying  the  dull 
blue  thread  with  her  nimble  fingers.  Her 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  119 

homespun  dress  dropped  naturally  into 
those  broad,  generous  folds  beloved  of 
sculptors.  She  had  a  clear,  placid  profile, 
which  always  found  shadows  sufficiently 
willing  to  serve  as  background  for  its  pale 
beauty.  Her  head  was  noble  in  its  con 
tours,  and  as  graceful  in  its  startled,  listen 
ing  movements  as  that  of  a  stag.  Roden 
did  make  several  attempts  to  fix  her  upon 
paper,  but  ended  always  with  a  contemptu 
ous  exclamation  and  a  hurried,  clever  draw 
ing  of  a  steeple-chase,  or  Bonnibel,  or  some 
other  equally  horsy  subject. 

One  day  he  happened  to  mention  that  as 
a  lad  he  had  played  tolerably  well  on  the 
violin.  Virginia  rose  at  once,  saying  that 
she  thought  there  was  one  in  the  attic. 

She  took  a  candle,  and  went  up  the  little 
corkscrew  staircase  that  led  into  the  roof 
of  the  house  —  a  dark,  dusty,  cavernous 
place,  smelling  of  mould  and  old  books. 
There  were  many  hair-covered  trunks  stud 
ded  with  brass  nails,  heaps  of  old  saddles 


I2O  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

and  harness,  fire-dogs,  brass  and  iron,  a  dis 
used  loom. 

The  corners  of  the  room  were  veiled  in 
a  thick  and  rustling  obscurity,  suggestive 
of  parchment  and  rats.  Onions  and  red 
peppers  adorned  the  ceiling. 

Virginia  set  down  the  candle  on  one  of 
the  moth-eaten  trunks,  and  lifted  the  lid  of 
a  second. 

A  fine  cloud  of  little  white  particles  flew 
out  into  her  face,  as  impalpable,  as  easy  of 
escape,  as  impossible  to  recapture,  as  the 
contents  of  Pandora's  box.  The  girl  thrust 
in  her  long  brown  arm,  and  drew  out  a 
bunch  of  white  ostrich  feathers. 

They  were  shedding  their  delicate  moth- 
nibbled  filaments  like  snow  upon  her  dark 
gown  and  the  bare  floor  of  the  attic.  She 
drew  them  caressingly  through  her  fingers 
as  though  in  pity;  it  seemed  to  her  sad 
that  things  so  charming  should  have  so 
common  a  fate.  She  then  stooped,  and 
after  a  little  searching  drew  out  the  violin. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  121 

She  was  about  to  shut  down  the  lid  of 
the  trunk  when  something  caught  her  eye 
— a  bunch  of  cherry-colored  ribbon,  which 
burst  from  beneath  a  mass  of  moth-eaten 
gray  fur,  like  a  sudden  flame  from  covering 
ashes. 

She  reached  down  and  pulled  it  out; 
but  lo !  it  was  not  only  a  knot  of  ribbons ; 
something  more  followed — a  sleeve  of  heavy 
antique  silk,  stiffly  brocaded  in  red  and  gold 
flowers  on  a  cream -hued  ground.  Then 
came  more  ribbons,  a  mass  of  fine  lace,  a 
scarlet  petticoat.  The  girl  put  down  the 
violin,  held  up  this  relic  of  the  Old  Domin 
ion,  and  shook  it  out  somewhat  contempt 
uously.  A  little  parcel  fell  from  the  musty 
skirt — a  pair  of  slippers  with  high  red  heels 
and  little  red  rosettes.  As  she  looked,  a 
sudden  change  came  over  the  girl's  face,  a 
sudden  flash  of  resolve,  a  quick  suffusion 
of  bright  color.  She  seized  the  little  shoes, 
bundled  them  again  into  the  dress,  and 
drew  her  own  homespun  skirt  over  the 


122  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

whole.  Then,  tucking  the  violin  under  her 
arm  and  lifting  the  candle,  she  ran  at  a  per 
ilously  hurried  pace  down  the  contorted 
stair-way  and  into  her  own  room. 

She  closed  and  locked  the  door,  laid  the 
dress  and  violin  on  the  bed,  and  still  stand 
ing  up,  pulled  and  tugged  at  one  of  her 
heavy  shoes  until  it  came  off  in  her  hand, 
discovering  one  of  her  shapely  feet  in  its 
blue  yarn  stocking.  But,  alas !  Virginia 
present  could  not  get  her  foot  into  the 
slipper  of  Virginia  past.  She  sat  down  on 
the  edge  of  the  bed  in  mortified  vanquish- 
ment,  and  turned  the  pretty,  absurd  thing 
about  in  her  strong  hand.  Then  once  more 
she  tried  to  put  it  on.  She  found  that  by 
squeezing  her  toes  into  the  toe  of  the  slip 
per  she  could  manage  to  walk,  as  there  was 
no  restraint  at  the  back  of  the  foot.  She 
then  lifted  and  put  on  the  dress.  It  would 
not  meet  by  several  inches  about  her  splen 
did  young  bosom,  and  the  waist  gaped  at 
her  derisively  from  the  little  mahogany- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  123 

framed  mirror.  She  was,  however,  deter 
mined.  She  hid  these  defects  as  best  she 
might,  by  snipping  away  bunches  of  the 
cherry-colored  ribbon  here  and  there,  and 
pinning  them  in  reckless  profusion  above 
the  gap  in  the  bodice.  My  lady  of  the 
time  of  George  the  Third  must  have  been 
shorter  than  this  damsel  of  the  first  year  of 
President  Cleveland's  administration.  The 
stiff,  flowered  skirts  stopped  short  at  least 
three  inches  above  her  instep.  Virginia 
had  fortunately  very  commendable  ankles, 
and  peeping  thus  from  the  mass  of  mould- 
stained  red  and  yellow  frillings,  they  looked 
as  sleek  and  trim  as  the  neck  of  a  bluebird 
peeping  from  autumnal  foliage. 

She  tilted  the  little  glass  forward  by 
means  of  one  of  her  discarded  shoes  thrust 
behind  it,  and  darted  a  shamefaced  glance 
at  her  transformed  self.  Bravo !  bravo ! 
Miss  Herrick!  You  are  worthy  of  that 
famous  name.  So  hath  Abbey  oft  drawn 
Julia,  plenteous  in  her  shining  skirts  and 


124  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

tresses,  beribboned,  beautiful.  Ah !  what 
eyes !  what  lips !  what  an  exquisite  expres 
sion,  half  of  self-conceit,  half  of  timid  uncer 
tainty  !  What  a  throat  for  a  dove  to  envy, 
supporting  the  face  kissed  brown  by  the 
sun,  like  an  orchid  whose  stem  is  fairer 
than  its  flower !  Snood  up  that  banner  of 
golden  hair,  my  good  Virginia;  twist  it 
about  with  the  string  of  little  shells  you 
yourself  gathered  last  summer ;  make  your 
self  as  lovely  as  possible,  my  little  fawn, 
for  the  sacrifice.  The  gods  have  demanded 
it  from  time  immemorial  —  a  band  of  fair 
maidens  every  year  to  appease  the  Mino 
taur  Despair.  Good-by,  Virginia ;  good-by; 
good-by.  Never  again  will  that  dim  green 
glass  reflect  such  looks  from  you.  Do  not 
forget  the  violin.  Was  it  not  for  him  that 
you  went  to  fetch  it?  Is  it  not  for  him 
that  you  have  forced  your  strong  young 
body  into  the  curveless  dress  of  1761  ?  Is 
it  not  all  for  him  ?  And  even  unto  the 
end  will  it  not  be  for  him  ? 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  125 

Roden,  conscious  only  of  her  presence 
by  the  unusual  rustling  of  her  skirts,  looked 
up  questioningly.  When  he  saw  her,  who 
she  was,  he  started  to  his  feet,  his  lips  part 
ing  in  an  expression  of  utter  amaze.  It 
was  as  though  one  of  the  bepowdered  Ca- 
ryston  dames  had  stepped  from  her  massive 
gilt  frame  in  the  hall  without  and  confront 
ed  him.  He  could  say  nothing  but  her 
name,  in  varied  tones  of  astonishment,  in 
quiry,  and  approval. 

She  stood  before  him  on  her  high  heels 
as  uncertain  as  a  child  learning  to  walk, 
smoothing  out  the  much-creased  folds  of 
her  gay  attire  with  restless,  nervous  fin 
gers,  the  stringless  violin  in  her  other  hand. 
"  I— I— I  look  a  awful  fool— don't  I  ?"  she 
said,  laughing  not  very  merrily.  "I — feel 
's  'f  I'd  sorter  got  roots  to  my  feet  in  these 
shoes."  She  thrust  out  one  foot,  in  its  incon 
gruity  of  yarn  stocking  and  Louis  Quinze 
slipper,  tilted  it  to  one  side,  and  regarded  it 
in  apparent  absorption. 


126  Virginia  of  Virginia.          , 

Roden  was  only  thinking  what  a  charm 
ing  picture  she  made  tricked  out  in  all  this 
red  and  gold  of  other  days.  She  stood 
there  before  him  like  a  beautiful  present, 
clad  in  the  garments  of  a  past  as  beauti 
ful.  He  felt  a  strange  sensation  of  having 
stepped  back  into  the  time  of  Henry  Es 
mond  and  the  Virginians.  He  glanced 
down  at  his  wrists,  half  expecting  to  see 
lace  ruffles  spring  to  adorn  them,  under  the 
magic  of  the  hour. 

"You  pretty  child!"  he  said  at  last, 
"what  on  earth  made  you  think  of  getting 
yourself  up  in  this  style  ?"  But  he  knew 
that  she  was  more  than  pretty.  He  would 
have  liked  to  tell  her  so,  only  he  was  al 
ways  very  careful  what  he  said  to  this  little 
Virginian;  and  florid  compliments,  though 
perfectly  adapted  to  the  period  of  her  cos 
tume,  would  smack  of  the  familiar  when  con 
sidered  under  the  lights  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

He  wondered  at  the  radiance  in  her  sud- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  127 

denly  lifted  face.  How  could  he  know  that 
at  last  the  so  often  asked  question  nearest 
to  her  heart  was  answered,  and  answered 
by  him  ?  He  thought  her  pretty ! 

"  I  brought  you  the  violin,"  she  said,  turn 
ing  away  with  an  effort.  "  I  reckon  I'd 
better  go  'n'  take  off  these  things.  They 
cert'n'y  do  look  foolish — don't  they  ?" 

"  No,  don't,"  said  Roden.  "  You  ought  to 
humor  an  invalid,  you  know.  You  are  so 
awfully  nice  to  look  at  in  that  queer  old 
gown." 

Dimples  that  he  had  never  before  seen, 
just  born  of  joy,  stole  in  and  out  about 
the  corners  of  the  girl's  red  lips.  She  was 
more  even  than  beautiful ;  she  was  enchant 
ing.  How  ever  had  she  come  by  all  those 
old-time  airs  and  movements  ?  Had  she 
perchance  imbibed  the  spirit  of  the  past 
with  the  air  of  the  old  house  where  she  had 
always  lived?  Did  some  of  those  Q\&grandes 
dames  lean  from  the  walls  at  night  to  teach 
her  that  subtle,  upward  carriage  of  the  head? 


128  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

He  forgot  all  about  the  violin,  and  stood 
looking  at  her  in  wondering  absorption. 

"  I — I've  got  a  new  song  for  you,"  she 
said,  presently,  in  a  low  voice.  She  seated 
herself  sidewise  at  the  piano,  as  though  dif 
fident  of  the  furbelows  that  composed  the 
back  of  her  novel  attire,  striking  at  the  same 
time  noiseless  chords  with  her  left  hand. 

"  You  said  you  liked  Scotch  songs.  I 
found  this  one  in  a  old  book  that  b'longed 
to  my  mother.  She  was  Scotch.  Mus'  I 
sing  it  ?" 

"  Please  do,"  said  Roden. 

Thus  encouraged,  she  sang  to  him  in  the 
following  words : 

"  I  hae  a  curl,  a  bricht  brown  curl, 

A  bonny,  bonny  curl  o'  hair, 
An'  close  to  my  heart  it  nestles  warm, 
But  its  brithers  dinna  ken  it's  there. 

"  I  stole  my  curl,  my  silk-saft  curl, 
My  bonny,  bonny  curl  o'  hair, 
An'  a'  the  nicht  it  sleeps  upon  my  heart, 
But  its  master  doesna  ken  it's  there. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  129 

"  O  bricht,  bricht  curl !  O  luvely,  luvely  curl ! 

O  curl  o'  my  bonny,  bonny  dear ! 
I  wad  that  again  ye  waur  shinin'  on  his  head, 
But  I  wad  that  his  head  waur  here !" 

Now  although  Roden  had  often  before 
heard  her  sing,  he  was  conscious  of  a  sound 
in  her  voice  to-night  which  was  utterly  new 
to  him — a  sound  so  marvellous,  so  altogeth 
er  exquisite,  so  melting  sweet,  that  he  was 
almost  afraid  the  beating  of  his  heart  would 
prevent  some  of  its  beauty  from  reaching 
him.  There  was  in  it  a  divine  fulness 
which  he  had  never  before  heard  in  a  hu 
man  voice.  It  was  like  the  sea  on  summer 
nights.  It  was  like  the  distant  wind  in 
many  leaves.  It  was  like  the  eternal  com 
plaint  of  the  voices  of  the  fields  on  April 
noons.  It  filled  him  with  a  sense  of  peace 
and  unrest  at  the  same  time.  It  thrilled 
him  and  possessed  him  utterly.  Blind  that 
he  was,  however,  no  faintest  inkling  of  what 
had  produced  this  divine  result  came  to  his 
mind.  He  was  touched,  but  touched  only 
9 


130  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

as  he  would  have  been  by  any  other  voice 
as  perfect. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  he  said,  bending 
over  and  kissing  her  smooth  brow  with  one 
of  his  rash  impulses,  "we  must  see  what 
can  be  done  with  that  voice.  I  am  think 
ing  that  you  will  add  to  the  honor  of  your 
name  some  day,  Miss  Herrick." 

She  started  to  her  feet.  It  was  as  though 
her  very  heart's  blood  had  risen  to  meet  his 
lips.  A  delicate,  vivid  rose -color  dyed  all 
her  brow  and  temples.  "  How  do  you 
mean  ? — how  do  you  mean  ?"  she  said,  in  a 
rough,  shaken  whisper,  holding  both  hands 
against  her  heart  as  though  afraid  it  would 
leap  from  her  body. 

"  Never  mind  what  I  mean  just  now," 
he  said,  with  the  smile  of  a  wiseacre;  "and, 
Virginia,  since  you  have  sung  that  song  so 
charmingly,  I  am  sure  that  you  will  be  glad 
for  me  about  something  which  I  am  going 
to  tell  you." 

Glad  ?    Was  she  not  always  glad  for  any- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  131 

thing  which  gave  him  joy?  Had  she  not 
read  her  eyes  almost  sightless,  night  after 
night,  in  mastering  that  strange  horse  lore 
which  would  enable  her  to  help  him  in  his 
enterprises?  She  came  nearer,  in  bright 
expectancy;  lifted  her  face  to  meet  his 
looks  and  words. 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  "  please  tell  me.  I  know 
I'll  be  glad— I  cert'n'y  will." 

"  I  am  engaged  to  be  married,"  he  told 
her.  "  I  am  engaged  to  be  married  to  Miss 
Mary  Enroll,  and — I  want  you  to  be  the 
first  to  congratulate  me,  Virginia." 

He  could  recall  nothing  afterwards  but 
the  swift  withdrawing  of  her  hands  from 
his.  He  could  not  even  remember  how 
she  had  left  the  room.  She  seemed  to 
vanish  as  though  in  reality  she  had  been 
but  a  wraith  summoned  up  by  fancy  from 
days  long  fled. 

But  Virginia  ?  Ah,  Virginia !  Out,  out, 
out  into  the  night  she  sped  on  supple,  un 
shod  feet.  She  had  torn  off  those  queer 


132  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

little  parodies  of  shoes  at  the  hall  door,  and 
held  them  now  mechanically  to  her  breast 
as  she  ran. 

The  air,  redolent  with  peach  -  blossoms 
and  hyacinths  just  born,  rushed  to  meet 
her  from  the  dark  jaws  of  the  east,  as 
though  some  leviathan  should  breathe  with 
a  sweet  breath  upon  the  night  May  earth. 
There  was  no  moon  in  the  lustrous  blue- 
gray  of  the  heavens,  but  the  stars  seemed 
trying  to  atone  for  her  absence  by  their 
multitudinous  shining. 

As  Virginia  dashed  on  past  a  clump  of 
box -bushes,  her  skirts  brushing  the  stiff 
leaves  set  them  rattling,  and  woke  the  nest 
ed  birds  to  querulous  complaints.  Her 
feet  were  wet  with  the  night  grasses,  and 
bruised  with  the  pebbles  of  the  carriage- 
drive.  She  reached  the  lawn  gate,  opened 
it,  and  rushed  through.  On,  on,  across  a 
field  of  grass,  close-cropped  by  the  not  fas 
tidious  sheep,  who,  warmly  folded  on  a 
neighboring  hill-side,  still  nibbled  drowsi- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  133 

ly   between   their  slumbers   such   luscious 
blades  as  were  within  their  reach. 

She  came  at  last  to  a  little  enclosure  set 
about  with  evergreens  and  almost  knee- 
deep  in  withered  grass.  Her  eyes,  grown 
accustomed  to  the  wan  light,  could  make 
out  two  little  hillocks,  as  it  were,  formed 
within  by  heaped-up  earth,  and  clasped  by 
the  tangled  herbage.  Underneath  their 
sometime  verdant  rises  slept  the  first  twain 
who  in  Virginia  bore  the  name  of  Caryston. 
Side  by  side,  so  had  they  lain,  in  death  to 
gether  as  in  life  they  had  been.  Virginia 
knew  well  this  their  self -chosen  resting- 
place.  Here  on  summer  afternoons  would 
she  come  to  knit.  Here  she  always  brought 
the  first  spring  flowers,  and  here  she  had 
always  placed  boughs  of  white  and  purple 
lilacs  every  day  while  they  lasted.  She 
had  dreamed  and  wondered  and  enjoyed 
here,  and  here  she  came  to  suffer,  as  from 
some  subtle  instinct  a  man  turns  to  his 
childhood's  home  to  die. 


134  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Just  outside  the  wicket  gate  the  daffodils 
were  all  in  plenteous  blossom,  as  though 
day,  for  once  relenting,  had  dropped  an 
armful  of  gold  into  the  lap  of  night.  On 
a  locust-tree  near  by  a  mocking-bird  trilled 
and  warbled.  She  cast  herself  face  down 
upon  one  of  the  graves,  clasping  it  about 
with  her  bare  arms,  as  one  clasps  a  proven 
friend  in  time  of  trouble.  She  had  spoken 
no  word  as  yet.  She  suffered  as  keenly,  as 
dumbly,  as  any  creature,  wild  or  tame,  to 
whom  there  is  no  soul.  But  all  at  once  a 
cry  broke  from  her,  then  over  and  over 
again,  "  O  my  God !  O  my  God !  O  my 
God!" 

The  sobbing  piteousness  of  this  desolate 
prayer  as  it  tore  its  way  from  the  depths  of 
her  wild  heart — who  shall  write  of  it  ?  Not 
I — not  I — even  if  I  could.  She  was  a  sav 
age  ;  she  suffered  like  a  savage.  Will  any 
say  there  was  no  justice  in  it?  It  is  some 
thing,  is  it  not,  to  be  capable  of  passion 
such  as  that?  She  suffered  beyond  most 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  135 

people,  men  and  women,  it  is  true ;  but  was 
she  not  in  that  much  blessed  above  them  ? 

She  lay  there  until  the  dawn  looked 
whitely  above  the  eastern  hills  upon  the 
waking  earth.  In  her  quaint  old  dress  one 
might  have  thought  her  the  tortured  ghost 
of  the  woman  who  had  so  long  slept  in 
peace  below  the  grass-hidden  mound.  She 
staggered,  when  at  last  she  rose  to  her  feet, 
and  fell  for  a  moment  upon  her  knees. 
There  was  a  sense  of  vagueness  that  pos 
sessed  her.  She  did  not  seem  to  care  now, 
somehow.  She  wondered  if  they  would  be 
married  at  the  little  church  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  if  they  would  let  her  come.  She 
thought  he  would.  She  thought  that  she 
would  not  mind  much  seeing  it.  Of  course 
they  would  live  here.  She  would  see  them 
together  every  day.  Well,  what  of  that? 
She  was  surprised  in  a  dull  way  that  it  did 
not  affect  her  more.  Then  she  remem 
bered  that  she  had  not  made  any  bread  for 
him,  such  as  he  liked,  the  night  before. 


136  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Well,  it  was  a  pity ;  but  it  was  too  late  ;  it 
wouldn't  have  time  to  rise  now.  She  must 
think  of  something  else.  Morning  came 
on  apace,  clad  all  in  translucent  beryl-col 
ored  robes,  and  brow-bound  with  gold  and 
with  scarlet. 

The  birds  were  waking  and  chattering, 
as  women  chatter  over  their  morning  toi 
lets.  Some  more  hyacinths  had  bloomed 
in  the  night,  and  there  was  a  great  clump 
of  iris,  that  she  had  not  noticed  the  day 
before,  on  the  hill-top.  A  cardinal  -  bird, 
sweeping  downward  like  a  flame  fallen 
from  some  celestial  fire,  made  his  morn 
ing  bath  in  the  hollow  of  a  tulip-tree  leaf 
— a  relic  of  vanished  winter  filled  by  kind 
ly  spring  with  fragrant  rain. 

As  she  neared  the  lawn  gate  she  saw 
some  one  leaning  over  it.  A  swart,  red- 
kerchiefed  figure,  clad  in  a  dress  whose 
stripes  of  blue  and  white  circled  her  large 
body  as  its  hoops  a  barrel.  It  was  Aunt 
Tishy.  She  pushed  upon  the  gate,  jam- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  137 

ming  her  stout  proportions  uncomfortably 
in  her  haste  to  reach  the  girl. 

"  Gord !  Miss  Faginia,  whar  is  you  ben  ? 
An'  gret  day  in  de  mawnin !  what  dat  you 
got  on,  anyhow  ?  Gord  !  Gord  !  ef  de  chile 
ain'  jes  ez  wet  's  'f  she'd  ben  caught  in  de 
Red  Sea  wid  Phario.  Honey,  whar  is  you 
ben,  in  the  name  o'  Gord  ?  Tell  yo'  mam 
my.  Is  you  been  see  a  harnt  ?  What  de 
matter  wid  my  baby  ?  Gord  !  Gord  !  dem 
eyes  sutney  is  ben  look  on  suppn  drade- 
f  ul.  Po'  lamb !  po'  lamb !  Look  at  dem 
little  foots,  an'  de  stockin's  all  war  offen 
'em  same  as  de  rats  dun  neaw  'em.  Ain' 
yo'  gwine  tell  yo'  mammy,  my  lady-bug? 
Come  'long  so.  Mammy  kin  'mos'  kyar 
yo'  ter  de  house." 

Virginia  submitted  listlessly  to  the  old 
black's  blandishments.  She  was  not  sorry 
to  have  Aunt  Tishy's  massive  arm  about 
her.  Her  feet  ached  and  smarted;  there 
was  a  sharp  pain  in  her  side  when  she 
drew  her  breath,  and  that  dreadful  feeling 


138  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

of  being  a  thing  just  born,  a  creature  who 
had  no  past,  still  held  her  in  its  numbing 
grasp. 

Aunt  Tishy  took  her  into  the  big  kitch 
en — an  out-house  consisting  of  one  room, 
and  a  fireplace  in  which  one  might  have 
roasted  a  whole  ox.  It  was  lined  on  two 
sides  with  great  smoke  -  darkened  pine 
presses.  The  other  walls  and  the  ceiling 
had  once  been  white,  but  were  now  stained 
the  color  of  a  half -seasoned  meerschaum 
pipe.  The  two  windows  had  casements 
with  diamond-shaped  panes  of  dingy  glass 
set  in  lead.  Enormous  deal  tables  stood 
here  and  there.  From  the  surrounding 
gloom  came  the  glimmer  of  brightly  pol 
ished  tin,  as  brilliant  in  its  effect  as  the 
glint  of  a  negro's  teeth  from  the  dusk  of 
his  face. 

Aunt  Tishy,  having  seated  her  nursling 
in  an  old  wooden  rocking-chair,  dragged  a 
basket  of  chips  and  shavings  from  the  capa 
cious  ingle-nook,  and  set  about  making  the 


I  GWINE   TAKE   DAT   DAR   OUTLANDISH   THING   OFFEN 
YO',  HONEY." 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  141 

fire.  She  first  scooped  away  the  yet  warm 
ashes  of  yesterday  with  her  shapely  yellow- 
palmed  hands.  Negroes  generally  have 
well-formed  hands  and  remarkably  pretty 
finger-nails.  Then  she  began  laying  a  little 
foundation  of  shavings  and  lightwood  splin 
ters  ;  here  and  there  she  stuck  a  broad 
locust -chip.  When  these  preparations 
were  all  completed  she  went  out  to  "  fotch 
a  light,"  she  said,  assuring  Virginia  of  her 
speedy  return. 

In  a  few  moments  she  was  back,  carrying 
a  handful  of  live  coals  in  her  naked  palm, 
having  first  sprinkled  a  few  ashes  over  it 
for  protection.  With  these  she  kindled 
the  fire,  which  soon  made  a  busy  clamor  in 
the  hollow  throat  of  the  old  chimney. 

Once  more  she  disappeared,  returning 
with  a  bundle  of  things  in  her  arms:  a  big 
shawl,  Virginia's  shoes  and  stockings,  and 
her  homespun  dress. 

"  I  gwine  take  dat  dar  outlandish  thing 
offen  yo',  honey,"  she  announced,  seat- 


142  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

ing  herself  on  the  pine  floor  in  front  of 
the  girl,  and  beginning  to  draw  off  her 
torn  stockings.  "  I  gwine  mek  yo'  put 
on  yo'  own  frawk  'fo'  dey  sees  yo'  in  d' 
house.  Marse  Gawge  he  ain'  knowin'  nut- 
tin'  'bout  yo'  bein'  out  all  night.  I  'mos' 
skeered  to  deaf  'bout  yo',  but  I  ain'  seh 
nuttin'  to  nawbody,  'case  I  didn't  think  my 
honey  gwine  g'way  fur  good."  She  took 
the  little  cold  bare  feet  into  her  cushiony 
palms  and  rubbed  them  softly.  Every  now 
and  then  she  bent  down  her  gayly  turbaned 
head  and  blew  with  warm  breath  upon 
them  after  the  negro  fashion  of  ministering 
to  any  frozen  thing,  from  a  bit  of  bread  to 
a  young  "  squawb." 

"  Yo'  barfs  all  rade-y  in  de  house,"  Aunt 
Tishy  continued,  as  she  knelt  up  and  began 
unfastening  the  ribbons  from  the  front  of 
the  old-time  garment  the  girl  had  donned 
in  a  mood  so  different. 

"  Gord !  honey,"  she  said,  as  the  pins  ac 
cumulated  in  her  capacious  mouth,  "  in  de 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  143 

name  o'  sense  what  dun  persess  yo'  tub  put 
on  dis  hyah  thing  ?  Name  o'  Gord !  who 
ever  see  sich  a  thing  aneyhow  ?"  She  held 
it  up  with  much  of  the  contempt  with  which 
Virginia  had  at  first  regarded  it,  tossing  it 
finally  into  the  chip-basket. 

Virginia  said  nothing  from  first  to  last. 
She  was  almost  sure  that  she  was  dream- 
ing,  and  would  soon  awake. 

"  My  sakes  'live !"  chuckled  Aunt  Tishy, 
as  she  hooked  the  homespun  dress  about 
the  girl's  waist,  "  wouldn'  I  'a'  thanked  Gord- 
amighty  ef  yo'd  'a'  ben  dis  good  when  yo' 
wuz  leetle,  honey?  Mk,  TtA^mphT 

(This  final  ejaculation  I  find  impossible 
to  describe  with  pen  and  ink.) 

When  she  had  completely  altered  her 
charge's  appearance,  replaiting  her  dishev 
elled  hair,  and  unwinding  from  its  tangled 
meshes  the  little  chain  of  white  and  red 
sea-shells,  Aunt  Tishy  took  her  by  the  hand 
and  led  her  across  the  side  lawn  to  the 
house. 


144  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  Now  yo'  kin  dress  comfbul,"  she  told 
her,  "  an'  jess  mek'  yo'se'f  easy,  my  lamb. 
Tishy  she  ain'  gwine  seh  nuttin'  tuh  naw- 
bode-y." 

Virginia  tried  to  smile  upon  her.  Some 
thing  stiff  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth 
seemed  to  prevent  her.  She  turned,  lifting 
one  hand  to  her  cheek,  and  went  into  the 
yet  quiet  house. 


VI. 

RODEN  wondered  a  good  deal  during 
such  moments  as  his  thoughts  reverted 
not  to  his  ladylove,  concerning  Virginia's 
recent  neglect  of  him.  Popocatepetl  was 
his  attendant  now  at  meals,  dried  his  news 
papers,  and  gambolled  for  his  amusement. 
Virginia  had  come  to  him  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  day  following  that  upon  which  he 
had  announced  to  her  his  engagement,  and 
had  said  she  "didn'  know  what  took  her 
las'  night.  She  cert'n'y  was  glad  he  was 
so  happy.  He  mus'  please  scuse  her  'f  she'd 
ben  unperlite.  She  cert'n'y  was  glad."  But 
Roden  missed  her  very  much.  Besides,  he 
wished  exceedingly  to  hear  her  sing  again. 
He  wanted  to  be  quite  sure  that  he  had  not 
deluded  himself  in  regard  to  the  possibili 
ties  contained  in  her  sonorous  voice. 


146  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Virginia  continued  to  be  very  economical 
of  her  presence,  however,  and  three  days 
afterwards  he  was  summoned  to  New  York 
by  telegraph  to  attend  the  bedside  of  an 
ailing  thorough-bred. 

Virginia  did  not  come  to  tell  him  good- 
by.  He  thought  it  strange  at  the  moment, 
but  did  not  have  time  to  ponder  over  it 
subsequently.  She,  in  the  mean  time,  kneel 
ing  behind  the  "  slats  "  of  her  bedroom  win 
dow-blinds,  watched  the  little  Canadian  fish 
ing-wagon  as  it  drove  away,  with  Popocat 
epetl  proudly  installed  on  the  back  seat. 
She  held  something  crushed  against  her 
breast — an  old  Trinity  College  boating-cap 
which  belonged  to  Roden.  She  knelt  there 
for  full  a  half-hour  after  the  last  grinding  of 
the  cart-wheels  on  the  carriage-drive.  No 
tears  rose  to  soothe  the  burning  in  her  eyes. 
She  had  not  wept  since  that  night  spent  by 
those  lonely  graves.  At  last  she  rose  and 
went  over  beside  the  fire.  The  day  was 
unusually  raw  for  the  season  of  the  year. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  147 

Rebellious  robins  chattered  on  the  eaves. 
A  fitful  wind  swept  rudely  over  the  fields. 
Virginia,  with  unseeing  eyes  on  the  low- 
smouldering  fire,  caressed  the  bit  of  blue 
cloth  in  her  hands  with  absent,  slow-mov 
ing  fingers.  Anon  she  lifted  and  examined 
it  closely.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  lion 
on  the  coat  of  arms  might  have  been  better 
done.  She  remembered  an  old  print  of 
Daniel  in  the  lions'  den  which  was  in  the 
big  family  Bible.  Therein  the  king  of  beasts 
was,  she  thought,  far  more  ably  depicted. 
This  lion  had  an  inane  expression,  owing 
probably  to  the  two  black  dots  which  stood 
for  his  fierce  eyes,  a  paucity  of  mane,  and  a 
superfluity  of  tail  which  struck  her  as  un 
dignified.  Suddenly  she  burst  out  laugh 
ing.  Peal  after  peal  of  the  merry,  staccato 
sound  rang  through  the  winding  passage 
ways  above,  and  echoed  down  into  the  low 
er  halls ;  ripple  upon  ripple  of  wild  merri 
ment  ;  a  rush,  an  abandonment  of  jollity, 

in  which  she  had  not  indulged  for  many  a 
10 


148  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

day.  She  tried  in  vain  to  stop.  She  could 
not.  That  little  oblong  lion  with  his  much- 
curled  tail  was  too  much  for  her.  Ha !  ha ! 
Oh,  how  funny  —  how  funny  it  was  !  and 
how  she  enjoyed  a  good  laugh !  And  was 
it  not  far,  far  better  to  laugh  than  to  cry  ? 
Oh,  that  funny,  funny,  funny  little  beast ! 
How  merry  he  made  her,  how  jolly,  how 
care-free,  once  more ! 

A  voice  rang  out  suddenly,  calling  her 
name :  "  Faginia !  O-o-o-o  Faginia !  O-o-o-o 
Faginia !" 

Startled  into  sudden  gravity,  she  slipped 
the  cap  into  the  breast  of  her  brown  stuff 
gown,  and  went  to  the  door. 

"  That  you,  father  ?" 

"  Yase,  'tis.  What  'n  th'  name  o'  good 
ness  V  you  hyahhyahin'  'bout  up  thar  all  by 
yo'self  ?  Howsomdever,  the  beauty  of  the 
question  air,  thar's  a  young  lady  down  here 
as  wants  ter  see  you,  an'  I'd  never  'a'  knowed 
yo'  was  in  the  house  ef  yo'  hadn'  been  goin' 
on  like  a  wil'-cat  with  the  stomach-ache." 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  149 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  said  Virginia. 

Back  came  the  name  in  strident  unmis 
takable  syllables,  "  Miss— Ma-ry— Er-roll." 

There  was  a  second's  pause. 

"  I'll  be  down  in  a  minute,"  Virginia 
called  back. 

Miss  Mary  Erroll  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  "front  hall"  in  her  Quorn-cloth 
habit,  whistling  softly  to  herself.  Her  short 
riding-skirt  needed  no  holding  up  to  enable 
her  to  move  comfortably,  and  her  hands 
were  clasped  behind  her  about  her  hunt 
ing-crop. 

Virginia,  coming  slowly  down  the  many 
convolutions  of  the  broad  stair-way,  noticed 
the  dark  sheen  of  the  thick  braid  folded 
away  under  the  smart  little  hat,  the  glimpse 
of  fair  cheek  and  throat,  the  thorough-bred 
lines  of  the  slight  figure. 

"  Mornin',"  she  said,  briefly. 

Miss  Erroll  stopped  in  the  midst  of  an 
intricate  aria,  unbent  her  red  lips,  and  held 
out  her  hand  in  its  loose  dog-skin  glove: 


150  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

evidently  she  intended  to  ignore  the  un 
pleasantness  of  their  last  interview. 

"  I  came  to  Caryston  for  two  reasons,"  she 
announced,  cheerily.  "  First,  to  give  your 
father  a  message  which  Mr.  Roden  left  with 
me.  Secondly,  to  bring  you  something, 
Miss  Virginia.  I  believe  you  like  dogs  ?" 

"  Some  dawgs,"  said  Virginia,  speaking 
in  a  dull,  even  tone. 

Miss  Enroll,  nothing  daunted,  led  the  way 
to  the  library ;  she  pulled  off  the  wrappings 
from  about  a  wicker  basket,  and  lifted  out 
a  sturdy  mastiff  pup,  who,  supported  across 
the  palm  of  his  whilom  mistress's  fair  hand, 
made  ungainly  motions  with  his  great  paws, 
as  though  trying  to  swim. 

"Won't  you  take  him,  Miss  Virginia? 
We  have  so  many  dogs  at  home,  it  would 
be  a  real  kindness." 

"  Most  likely  my  father  'd  like  to  have 
him,"  said  Virginia.  "  I  don't  have  much 
time  ter  'tend  ter  dawgs.  I'm  much  obliged 
ter  you,  though." 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  151 

Miss  Erroll,  thus  rebuffed,  set  down  the 
little  mastiff  on  the  floor,  and  pushed  it 
with  the  toe  of  her  riding-boot.  One  of  the 
characteristics  of  this  young  woman  was  an 
insatiate  desire  for  the  good-will  of  every 
one.  It  was  weak,  no  doubt;  but,  as  the 
celebrated  saying  hath  it,  the  weakness  was 
very  strong.  Somehow  it  made  Mary  un 
comfortable  to  think  that  the  overseer's 
daughter,  humble  though  her  position  was, 
should  not  succumb  to  the  charm  which  she 
chose  to  exert  for  her  benefit. 

The  unconscious  little  peace-offering  in 
the  mean  time  was  making  abortive  efforts 
to  peer  into  every  object  out  of  his  reach 
which  the  room  contained. 

A  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  came  over 
Virginia,  a  sense  of  unnecessary  rudeness, 
and  of  the  uselessness  of  it  all. 

"  I— I'll  take  him,  thank  you,"  she  said, 
stooping  and  lifting  the  puppy  into  her  ca 
pable  young  embrace.  "  I'm  mighty  glad  to 
have  him.  He  cert'n'y  is  pretty.'1 


1 52  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Poor  Virginia!  She  felt  the  baldness 
of  these  phrases  without  knowing  how  to 
remedy  them.  "  He  cert'n'y  is  cunnin'," 
she  added. 

Mary  was  much  relieved.  "  I  thought 
you  would  like  him,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
named  him  '  Mumbo,'  after  one  of  his  an 
cestors.  If  you  don't  like  the  name,  please 
be  sure  to  change  it." 

"  Oh,  I  like  it !"  said  Virginia.  "  I  couldn't 
give  him  a  better  one  to  save  my  life.  I 
kyarn't  never  scarsely  think  o'  names  fur 
the  critters  on  th'  farm.  Does  he  know  it 
yet?" 

"  Oh  no !"  Miss  Erroll  assured  her. — 
"  You'll  have  to  teach  him  that." 

She  looked  down  intently  at  one  of  her 
gloves,  and  began  to  unbutton  it.  "  I  sup 
pose  you  have  heard  of  my  engagement?" 
she  said,  without  looking  up. 

Yes,  Virginia  had  heard  of  it.  She  said 
so  in  an  even  monotone  which  had  in  it 
no  suggestions  either  of  approval  or  disap- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  153 

proval.  She  was  astonished  to  feel  Miss 
Erroll's  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Miss  Virginia,"  said  that  young  lady, 
with  a  sweet  and  whole-souled  blush,  "  I'm 
going  to.  ask  you  to  do  me  a  tremendous 
favor.  I  —  I  would  like  so  much  to  see 
Jack's — Mr.  Roden's  room  just  as  he  left 
it,  don't  you  know  —  with  his  boots  and 
coats  and  whips  lying  about.  I  don't  want 
your  father  or  any  of  the  servants  to  know, 
because  they  would  think  me  crazy;  but  I'm 
sure  you'll  understand." 

Virginia  led  the  way  without  a  word. 
The  mastiff  pup  made  playfully  affection 
ate  dabs  at  her  round  chin  with  his  rose- 
leaf  tongue.  Roden's  bedroom  was  on  the 
ground-floor.  He  did  not  occupy  the  ma 
jestically  gloomy  apartment  in  which  his 
first  night  at  Caryston  had  been  spent. 
This  room  was  in  the  east  wing  of  the 
house,  plentifully  perforated  with  small  case 
ments,  and  panelled  from  floor  to  ceiling. 
This  panelling  had  all  been  painted  white, 


154  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

and  the  result  of  the  heavy  coatings,  re 
newed  from  time  to  time,  was  a  rich,  ivory- 
like  smoothness  of  tint  and  tone.  A  little 
single  iron  bedstead  stood  in  one  corner 
of  the  room,  between  two  windows.  There 
were  some  capital  old  sporting  prints  upon 
the  walls,  numberless  hunting-crops  and  rid 
ing-canes  stacked  on  the  high  mantle,  spurs, 
gloves,  tobacco-bags,  cartridges,  and  what  not 
heaped  pell-mell  on  tables  and  chairs,  about 
twenty  pairs  of  boots  and  shoes  ranged 
along  one  side  of  the  room,  some  on  and 
some  not  on  trees.  Garments  of  divers 
kind  were  pitched  recklessly  about.  It  is 
perhaps  needless  to  say,  after  the  foregoing 
description,  that  confusion  reigned  supreme. 

Miss  Erroll,  at  first  shyly  conscious  of 
Virginia's  presence,  soon  began  to  move 
about  after  her  usual  airy  fashion.  She 
lifted  the  brier-wood  pipe,  so  often  smoked 
in  Virginia's  presence,  and  pressed  her  lips 
playfully  to  its  glossy  bowl. 

"Aren't    women    geese,  Miss    Virginia, 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  155 

when  they  care  for  any  one  ?"  she  said, 
turning  to  laugh  at  the  girl  over  her  grace 
ful  shoulder. 

She  was  entirely  at  her  ease  now,  and 
went  about  from  object  to  object,  touching 
some  and  merely  looking  at  others,  with  a 
little  conscious  air  of  possession  which  was 
like  the  turning  of  a  rusty  knife  in  the  girl's 
heart.  She  tossed  an  old  shooting -coat 
from  the  bed's  foot  to  a  chair,  remarking, 
as  she  did  so, "  What  careless  creatures  the 
best  of  men  are !  I  shall  have  to  give  Mas 
ter  Jack  a  lesson  in  the  old  proverb  con 
cerning  places  and  things — when — when  I 
am  Mrs.  Jack  !"  she  ended,  merrily. 

Turning  over  some  things  on  a  table 
near  one  of  the  windows  she  came  across 
an  old-fashioned  netted  purse  of  red  silk, 
with  steel  rings  and  tassels — the  purse  Vir 
ginia  had  netted  for  him  during  such  odd 
moments  as  she  could  steal  from  her  many 
occupations.  She  watched  Miss  Erroll  now 
with  hungry  eyes,  the  eyes  of  a  wounded 


156  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

lioness  who  watches,  helpless,  the  taking 
away  of  one  of  her  cubs.  Her  heart  beat 
against  her  homespun  bodice  with  short, 
quick  throbs.  She  stooped  and  set  the 
struggling  puppy  upon  the  floor.  It  seemed 
to  her  as  though  she  had  been  holding  fire 
in  her  arms. 

"  Oh,  this  is  so  pretty !"  said  unconscious 
Mary.  "  This  is  so  very  quaint  and  pretty  I 
I  must  have  it.  Of  course  he'd  give  it  me. 
I'm  just  going  to  take  it  without  saying  by 
your  leave ;"  and  with  that  she  slipped  it  in 
the  pocket  of  her  habit. 

Virginia  shut  her  eyes  for  a  moment, 
dizzy  with  pain  and  anger;  but  the  red 
light  which  seemed  to  surround  and  en 
velop  her  when  she  did  so  made  her  fainter 
than  ever.  She  lifted  her  dark  lids  and 
stared  out  at  the  blank  strip  of  sky  above 
the  box-bushes  outside  the  window,  vacant 
ly,  unseeingly. 

She  had  no  distinct  recollection  of  the 
remainder  of  Miss  Erroll's  visit.  That  one 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  157 

fact  concerning  the  taking  away  of  the  purse 
which  Roden  had  promised  to  keep  always 
alone  remained  distinctly  in  her  mind.  She 
had  tried  honestly  to  overcome  the  all- 
powerful,  unreasoning  dislike  of  Miss  Mary 
Enroll,  and  the  result  had  been  worse  than 
if  it  had  not  been  tried.  The  discordant, 
insistent  yapping  of  the  mastiff  pup  irritated 
her  almost  beyond  endurance.  He  seemed 
bent  on  intruding  upon  her  his  regret  for 
the  departure  of  his  former  mistress. 

As  she  went  wearily  into  her  father's 
work-room,  and  sat  down  to  her  spinning- 
wheel,  she  heard  his  voice  at  the  window 
calling  her. 

"  Well  ?"  she  said,  listlessly. 

"  'Pears  to  me,"  said  he,  jocosely,  "  as  hav 
ing  rained,  it  air  cert'n'y  pourin'.  Heah's 
Joe  Scott  come  ter  bring  yo'  them  jorhnny- 
jump-ups  he  sez  as  he  promised  yo'." 

She  got  violently  to  her  feet,  upsetting 
the  wheel  and  tearing  her  skirt  against  a 
projecting  nail  as  she  hastened  to  the  win- 


158  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

dow.  "  Tell  him  I'm  sick,"  she  said.  "  Tell 
him  I'm  in  bade.  I  ain't  a-goin'  ter  see 
him  ;  that's  flat.  If  needs  be,  tell  him  so." 

But  Mr.  Joseph  Scott  had  already  enter 
ed  the  room.  He  was  a  person  of  sinuous, 
snake-like  presence,  and  seemed  capable  of 
shedding  his  complete  attire  by  means  of  one 
deft  wriggle.  His  neck  rose  from  a  turn 
down  celluloid  collar,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  neck  of  "Alice  in  Wonderland,"  after 
she  had  partaken  of  the  cake  which  caused 
her  to  exclaim,  "  Curiouser,  and  curiouser  !" 
His  long  locks,  of  a  vague,  smoky  tint,  ex 
uded  an  unsavory  smell  of  (I  am  ashamed  to 
say)  rancid  pomatum.  He  wore  a  threadbare 
summer  overcoat,  though  in  his  case  the 
"  over "  was  a  decided  misnomer,  as  there 
was  nothing  under  it  but  an  unbleached 
cotton  shirt,  and  a  sporting  vest  which  had 
evidently  belonged  to  some  Briton.  His 
necktie  would  have  put  an  October  forest 
to  the  blush.  His  mud-colored  trousers 
were  pulled  down  outside  of  his  great  cow- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  159 

hide  boots,  which  presented  their  very  ap 
parent  tops  in  a  ridgy  circle  beneath  the 
stuff  of  his  trousers. 

A  strangling  sense  of  loathing  and  re 
volt  rose  in  Virginia's  throat.  She  felt  as 
though  she  would  indeed  suffocate  beneath 
that  terrible  combination  of  smell  and  vul 
garity.  She  leaned  far  out  of  the  window, 
and  spoke  to  him  without  turning  her  head. 

"  Mornin',"  she  said,  curtly.  "  P'r'aps  you 
heard  me  tell  father  I  was  sick." 

"LorM  air  you?"  said  Mr.  Scott.  "I 
cert'n'y  am  sawry.  Here's  them  jorhnny- 
jump-ups  I  hearn  you  seh  ez  how  you 
wanted." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Virginia,  in  a  stifled 
voice.  She  still  leaned  out  of  the  window, 
and  the  conversation  flagged. 

"  Larse  night,"  suddenly  announced  Mr. 
Scott,  with  spasmodic  assertiveness,  "  Larse 
night  a  peeg-horg  came  down  th'  mounting 
and  gneawed  all  pa's  corn  orf." 

"  He  must  'a'  had  a  mighty  leetle  crop," 


160  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

said  Virginia  from  without  the  window. 
Her  voice  came  back  into  the  room  soft 
ened  by  the  purring  air  without. 

"  I'm  tawkin'  'bout  gyarden  corn,"  said 
Mr.  Scott,  failing  to  appreciate  the  sar 
casm. 

Again  a  silence.  The  mastiff  pup,  di 
verted  by  the  arrival  of  the  new-comer,  went 
sniffing  about  his  redolent  person. 

"  Ef  he  was  a  fox,"  thought  Virginia, 
dryly, "  'twouldn't  take  no  houn's  ter  foller 
his  scent.  I  could  track  him  a  week  arter- 
wards  myself."  Out  aloud  she  said,  "Air 
them  roots  or  flowers  you  brought  me  ?" 

"  Both,"  said  Mr.  Scott. 

Another  pause. 

"  The  tarryfied  fever's  a-ragin'  up  ter 
Annesville,"  he  announced,  presently. 

Virginia  faced  about  for  the  first  time. 
"  Is  it  ?"  she  asked.  "  Who's  down  ?" 

"  Nigh  all  o'  them  Davises.  The  doctor 
says  as  how  it's  'count  o'  their  makin'  fer 
tilizer  in  their  cellar." 


Virginia  of  Virginia. 


161 


HE  MUST  V  HAD  A  MIGHTY  LEETLE  CROP. 


"What?"  said  Virginia. 

He  repeated  his  assertion. 

"  Ef  that's  true,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  I  am 
goin'  to  bother  my  head  'bout  'em;  such 
fools  oughter  die." 

(Be  that  as  it  may,  she  "bothered"  her 
self  enough  to  tramp  on  foot  all  the  way  to 


1 62  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Annesville,  some  eight  miles,  that  very 
afternoon,  and  offer  her  services  as  sick- 
nurse.  The  house  fortunately  was  under 
quarantine,  and  there  was  assistance  enough.) 

"But  that  ain'  nothin'  ter  th'  skyarlet- 
fever  over  the  mounting,"  Mr.  Scott  pur 
sued,  in  a  tone  whose  threadbare  lugubri- 
ousness  revealed  the  morbid  satisfaction 
which  lined  it.  "  That's  fyar  howlin' ;  an' 
they  sez,  moresomeover,  ez  how  it  can  be 
kyard  an'  took  from  a  little  bit  o'  rag." 

Old  Herrick,  who  had  come  again  to  the 
window,  was  listening  intently.  "  'S  that 
so  ?"  he  said,  finally.  "  Well,  consequently 
were,  the  beauty  of  that  question  air,  thar 
ain'  much  rag  trade  goin'  on  between  that 
side  o'  th'  mounting  an'  t'other.  Hyeah ! 
hyeah !" 

"  How  can  you  laugh,  father  ?"  said  the 
girl. 

"  Godamighty,  gyrl !  I  ain'  laufin'  at  the 
folks  as  is  got  the  fever,  but  at  them  as 
ain't." 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  163 

"  They  says  as  how  it  kin  be  kep'  in  a 
piece  o'  ribbon  or  sich  fur  over  twenty 
year,"  pursued  Mr.  Scott,  who,  apparently 
not  content  with  his  own  fragrance,  contin 
ued  from  time  to  time  to  bury  his  long  nose 
in  the  bunch  of  johnny-jump-ups  which  he 
still  held. 

"  'S  that  so  ?"  said  old  Herrick  again.  "  I 
tell  yo'  what,  darter,  'f  that  thar's  true,  yo'd 
better  have  them  things  ez  th'  las'  English- 
er's  wife  lef  up  in  th'  attic  burned  up." 

"  Why  ?"  said  Mr.  Scott,  before  Virginia 
could  reply. 

"'Case  thar  baby  died  o'  th'  red  fever, 
and  thar's  some  o'  its  belongin's  up  thar 
inter  a  cradle — some  little  odds  an'  eens  ez 
they  furgot  ter  take  away  with  'em  in  their 
trouble." 

"  Yo'd  cert'n'y  better  burn  'em,"  said  Mr. 
Scott,  with  knowing  gloom.  "I'd  as  soon 
sleep  with  a  bar'l  o'  gunpowder  over  my 
hade." 

"Well,  seems  to   me   ef  there's  danger 
ii 


164  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

'n  either,  'twouldn't  be  in  th'  gunpowder," 
said  Miss  Herrick,  dryly,  "  seein'  as  it  don' 
never  blow  down,  an'  yo'd  be  onder  it." 

"  G'long,  Miss  Faginia !"  exclaimed  her 
not-to-be-rebuffed  admirer.  "  Yo'd  have  yo' 
joke  'bout  a  dyin'  minister !" 

He  left  a  half-hour  afterwards,  all  uncon 
scious  of  the  seeds  of  disaster  which  he 
had  sown,  and  the  next  day  Roden  re 
turned  from  New  York  in  excellent  spirits. 
On  the  following  Tuesday  he  went  into  the 
kitchen  and  had  a  private  conference  with 
Aunt  Tishy,  which  resulted  in  his  leaving 
it  with  pockets  considerably  lightened,  and 
shoulders  laden  with  the  thanks  and 
praise  of  its  proprietress.  He  also  con 
fided  in  Virginia,  and  asked  her  assistance. 
He  wished  to  give  his  bride-elect  and  her 
mother  a  little  dinner — wouldn't  Virginia 
help  him  ?  She  was  so  very  clever  about 
such  things.  He  knew  if  she  would  only 
help  him  that  everything  would  be  perfect 
ly  satisfactory.  She  promised,  and  he  went 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  165 

off  on  Bonnibel  to  Windemere  entirely  con 
tent. 

Miss  Erroll  drove  her  mother  over  to 
Caryston  in  a  village -cart,  and,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  a  sudden  shower  caught 
them  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
house.  Mary,  however,  got  the  brunt  of 
the  shower,  as  she  was  driving,  and  had  at 
once  wrapped  her  mother  in  all  available 
rugs  and  wraps. 

Mrs.  Erroll  stepped  out  upon  the  front 
porch  at  Caryston  with  the  ruffle  at  her 
throat,  and  a  little  damp,  and  the  plumes 
in  her  bonnet  somewhat  limp ;  but  Mary's 
dress  of  white  wool  was  soaked  through 
and  through,  and  her  hat  a  sodden  mass  of 
white  lace  and  straw. 

Roden  relapsed  at  once  into  the  agonies 
of  alarm  in  which  newly  engaged  men  are 
apt  to  indulge  when  the  health  of  their 
fiancees  is  called  into  question.  He  went 
again  to  Virginia,  and  overwhelmed  her 
with  instruction  and  entreaties.  Miss  Er- 


1 66  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

roll  was  conducted  to  a  bedroom  bright 
with  blue  chintz  and  many  wax -candles, 
and  Virginia,  having  provided  her  with 
some  of  her  own  clothes,  went  off  to  dry 
the  soaked  garments.  That,  however,  Ro- 
den  would  not  hear  of.  It  was  too  far  to 
Windemere  to  send  back  for  dry  garments. 
Then  Virginia  must  lend  Miss  Erroll  one 
of  her  dresses. 

Virginia  had  three  dresses  besides  the 
one  she  wore.  She  brought  them  all  in 
and  laid  them  on  the  bed.  Miss  Mary, 
who  had  an  artistic  eye,  chose  a  gown  of 
garnet  wool  with  plain  round  waist  and 
short  skirt.  When  she  had  turned  it  in  a 
little  at  the  throat,  and  fastened  a  bit  of 
cambric,  which  Virginia  brought  her,  ker- 
chiefwise  about  her  neck,  she  looked  like  a 
charming  Cinderella  who  had  resumed  her 
humble  attire  to  please  her  Prince.  Mary's 
throat,  however,  could  not  stand  the  severe 
test  of  laceless  exposure.  It  was  too  slen 
der  and  long.  Where  Virginia's  massive 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  167 

column  of  cream-hued  flesh  rose  from  the 
clasp  of  such  a  kerchief  with  infinite  sug 
gestions  of  mythical  forests  and  Amazonian 
warriors,  Miss  Erroll  announced  that  she 
looked  "  scraggy."  She  took  up  the  bit  of 
black  velvet  with  its  buckle  of  Scotch  peb 
bles  which  she  had  worn  about  her  throat 
when  she  arrived.  But  the  wet  stuff  left 
dark  stains  on  her  fingers,  and  had  assumed 
a  cottony,  lack-lustre  hue.  "  If  only  I  had 
a  bit  of  velvet  to  go  about  my  throat !" 
she  said,  regretfully.  "  I  can't  go  down 
this  way — I'm  so  indecently  thin  !"  She 
laughed  a  little  and  sat  down  as  in  de 
spair. 

A  sudden  thought  leaped  hot  in  Vir 
ginia's  breast.  A  bit  of  velvet?  She  had 
no  velvet  of  any  kind,  but  she  knew  where 
a  piece  was.  A  bit  of  dark-blue  velvet  rib 
bon,  just  such  a  bit  as  Miss  Erroll  wanted. 
True,  it  had  been  used  to  loop  a  baby's 
sleeve,  but  around  that  slender  throat  it 
would  reach  most  amply. 


1 68  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  I — kin — get — you  a  piece,"  she  heard 
herself  saying. 

Her  voice  sounded  strange  and  disem 
bodied  to  herself,  as  though  it  did  not  issue 
from  her  own  lips.  She  thought  that  she 
to  whom  she  spoke  must  start  up  with 
horror  for  the  change.  But  no,  she  only 
smiled  blandly,  sweetly,  with  that  faint 
suggestion  of  patronage  which  was  as  per 
ceptible,  though  not  as  palatable,  as  the 
dash  of  bitter  in  orange  marmalade. 

"  Thank  you  so  much !"  she  said.  "  I 
shall  quite  suit  myself  then." 

Virginia  took  a  candle  and  went  up  into 
the  attic,  as  ten  days  ago  she  had  gone. 
The  damp,  dusty  smell  brought  back  to 
her  that  terrible  memory  as  only  a  per 
fume  can  recall  the  past. 

Her  veins  throbbed  ever  hotter  and 
fiercer.  Her  time  was  come.  Revenge 
was  in  her  hands.  What  fever  could  be 
more  virulent,  more  deadly,  than  the  fever 
that  dark-haired  girl  had  set  raging  in  her 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  169 

veins  ?  What  was  the  verse  that  she  had 
read  only  last  night  to  Aunt  Tishy  out 
of  what  the  old  negress  called  "de  Holy 
Wud  ?"  An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth.  Joe  Scott  was  not  the  only  person 
she  had  ever  heard  speak  of  such  a  thing. 
It  had  simply  served  to  'recall  it  to  her 
mind.  Ha !  ha !  She  had  never  liked  Joe 
Scott  before,  and  she  had  been  very  rude 
about  those  johnny-jump-ups.  Poor  Joe ! 
She  would  thank  him  the  very  best  she 
knew  how  when  next  she  saw  him.  Poor 
Joe !  good  Joe !  dear  Joe  !  Yes,  there  it 
was,  the  pretty  bassinet  cradle,  with  its 
faded  blue  and  pink  ribbons.  That  little 
English  baby  had  died  full  four  years  ago. 
She  walked  towards  it,  shielding  the  candle 
with  one  scooped  hand  from  the  playful  as 
saults  of  the  night  wind.  The  cradle  stood 
just  in  front  of  an  old  hair-covered  chest. 
As  she  neared  it,  a  consciousness  of  eyes 
regarding  her  came  upon  her.  Ah !  there 
they  were.  A  rat,  paralyzed  for  the  mo- 


170  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

ment  by  the  sudden  light,  had  paused  on 
the  edge  of  the  old  chest,  and  fixed  her 
with  his  little,  protruding,  evil-looking  eyes. 
She  made  a  spasmodic,  terrified  movement 
with  her  hand,  and  he  leaped  down,  his 
sleek,  tight-skinned  body  striking  the  floor 
with  a  repulsive  sound  as  of  unsavorily  nur 
tured  corpulence.  The  girl  turned  with  a 
strong,  uncontrollable  fit  of  shivering  tow 
ards  the  cradle.  It  was  rocking  slowly 
back  and  forth  in  the  uncertain  light,  its 
pink  and  blue  ribbons  fluttering  with  a 
ghostly  and  ill-timed  gayety.  A  cry  almost 
broke  from  between  her  gripped  lips,  but 
she  remembered  suddenly  that  the  rat  must 
have  set  it  in  motion  when  he  leaped  from 
the  top  of  the  chest.  Setting  the  candle  on 
the  floor  beside  her,  she  stooped  over  and 
began  lifting  out  the  little  sheets  and  blank 
ets  and  bundles  of  linen  and  silk.  One  of 
those  sudden  noises  which  disturb  sleep  at 
night  in  an  old  house  jarred  through  the 
room.  She  stuffed  the  things  hastily  back 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  171 

and  looked  behind  her.  Nothing  there.  But 
as  her  glance  went  round  the  room  she  saw 
before  her,  black,  assertive,  monstrous,  the 
likeness  of  a  huge  cradle,  cast  by  the  can 
dle  against  the  whitewashed  wall  of  the  gar 
ret.  Her  heart  beat  with  laboring,  heavy 
thuds.  If  it  were  not  quite  so  black,  she 
thought,  or  if  it  had  only  been  more  the 
size  of  the  real  cradle;  but  its  vast  pres 
ence  in  the  low -roofed  room  seemed  like 
the  presence  of  some  presiding  fate.  She 
tore  away  her  look  from  it  by  sheer  force  of 
will,  found  what  she  wanted,  caught  up  the 
candle,  and  rushed  headlong  from  the  room. 

Miss  Erroll  received  her  with  the  same 
sweet  smile.  "  You  were  pretty  long,"  she 
said.  "  I'm  afraid  I've  given  you  a  lot  of 
trouble." 

"  No,  none,"  said  Virginia.  She  cleared 
her  throat  and  repeated  the  words.  They 
were  indistinct  at  first,  because  of  the  dry- 
ness  of  her  tongue  and  the  roof  of  her 
mouth.  She  watched  with  hot,  moveless 


172  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

eyes  the  slim  fingers  of  Miss  Enroll  as  she 
first  crimped  the  curling  bit  of  velvet  be 
tween  her  fingers,  with  a  deft,  almost  im 
perceptible  movement,  and  forced  the  teeth 
of  her  little  buckle  through  it. 

"  How  damp  it  smells !"  she  said,  as  she 
lifted  it  to  her  throat  to  put  it  on ;  "  just  as 
if  it  had  been  stuffed  away  in  some  old  attic." 

Virginia's  knees  smote  together.  She 
put  out  her  hand  to  steady  herself,  and 
sank  heavily  into  a  chair. 

"  'Tain't  nuthin'— 'tain't  nuthin',"  she  said, 
roughly,  as  Mary  ran  to  her  side.  "  I'm  bet 
ter  jess  so.  Don'  tech  me,  please.  An'  please 
ter  scuse  me.  I  kyarn'  bear  no  one  to  tech 
me  when — when  I'm  like  this." 

Alas !  alas !  Virginia,  when  were  you 
ever  "  like  this  "  before,  in  the  whole  course 
of  your  seventeen  years  of  strength  and 
health  and  placid,  if  bovine,  contentment? 

The  dinner,  thanks  to  Virginia,  was  a 
success.  Roden's  wines  were  excellent. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  173 

They  were  going  to  ask  Virginia  to  sing 
for  them.  Roden  said  he  thought  it  would 
please  her  so  much.  After  dinner  Mrs. 
Erroll  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  the  sweet 
hearts  wandered  off  into  the  "  greenhouse," 
leaving  open  the  door  between  the  rooms. 
A  rhomboid  of  pale  yellow  light  from  the 
candles  on  the  dinner-table  fell  into  the  nar 
row,  flower-crowded  corridor,  touching  the 
great  geranium-leaves  into  a  soft  distinct 
ness,  and  showing  here  and  there  the  flame- 
colored  and  snow-white  glomes  of  blossom. 

Roden,  out  of  sight  of  Mrs.  Erroll,  had 
straightway  put  an  arm  about  the  supple 
waist  of  his  betrothed,  and  one  of  her  hands 
had  found  its  way  to  his  short  curls  with  a 
movement  as  of  long  habit.  As  the  slant 
ing  light  from  the  room  beyond  caught  the 
sheen  of  her  delicate  throat  above  its  velvet 
ribbon,  he  bent  his  head  and  pressed  down 
his  lips  upon  it  and  upon  the  bit  of  velvet. 

Virginia,  by  some  strange  coincidence 
or  freak  of  fate,  was  at  this  moment  cross- 


174  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

ing  the  lawn  to  put  the  mastiff  pup  into 
his  kennel.  Attracted  by  the  unusual 
light  in  the  greenhouse,  she  looked  up. 
Looking  up,  she  saw  Roden  as  he  stooped 
and  kissed  his  sweetheart's  throat  She 
gave  a  fierce  broken  cry,  like  an  angered 
beast,  and  turning,  ran  with  all  her  might 
into  the  house. 

Poor  Mrs.  Erroll,  summoning  up  musi 
cal  ghosts  from  her  maidenhood's  repertoire 
on  the  old  piano,  thought  that  one  of  Ro- 
den's  horses  had  gone  mad  and  galloped 
through  the  room. 

In  the  mean  time  Virginia,  panting,  word 
less,  seized  Mary  with  one  strong  hand,  and 
with  the  other  tore  off  the  velvet  from 
about  her  neck.  "  I — I — I've  read  as  how 
it  was  pizen ;  I  jess  remembered.  Here's 
yo'  buckle." 

She  rushed  madly  out  again,  and  fling 
ing  herself  upon  the  bare  floor  of  her  little 
bedroom,  beat  the  hard  boards  with  her 
hand  and  dragged  at  her  loosened  hair. 


VII. 

THERE  is  One  who  hath  said  that  to 
Him  belongeth  vengeance.  When  His 
creatures  take  into  their  incapable  grasp 
the  javelins  of  His  wrath  it  is  generally 
with  as  impotent  and  baleful  a  result  as 
when  young  Phaeton,  seeking  to  guide 
the  chariot  of  the  sun,  brought  to  himself 
despair,  and  scorched  to  cinders  the  un 
offending  earth.  Thus  was  it  with  Vir 
ginia.  With  the  nearness  of  her  unbri 
dled  love  and  anger  she  had  forever  seamed 
as  if  with  fire  the  fair  world  of  her  content. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  space  itself  would 
be  too  narrow  to  hold  her  apart  from  such 
women  as  were  good  and  true. 

Just  God !  could  it  be  that  her  sin  was 
to  be  visited  upon  the  being  whom  of  all 
the  world  she  loved  best,  because  of  whom 


176  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

that  sin  had  been  committed?  Was  Ro- 
den  going  to  suffer,  perhaps  to  die,  in  the 
stead  of  the  woman  she  had  sought  to 
slay  ?  He  was  not  often  at  Caryston  now ; 
most  of  his  days  were  spent  with  his  be 
trothed.  He  did  not  notice  the  change 
which  was  stealing  over  Herrick's  daugh 
ter.  He  had  no  time  to  wonder  that  she 
did  not  sing  now  at  her  spinning  as  once 
she  had  sung.  He  would  not  have  paused 
to  listen  to  her  had  she  done  so. 

He  was  called  away  again  to  the  North 
on  the  last  of  May,  and  on  the  day  after 
his  departure  Aunt  Tishy  burst  into  Vir 
ginia's  room  with  flour  -  covered  hands. 
"  Gord !  Gord !  honey,"  she  said,  tossing 
her  blue-checked  apron  up  and  down  with 
wild,  savage  gestures  of  dismay  and  grief, 
"what  yuh  think? — Marse  Jack's  sweet 
heart's  dun  got  de  rade  fever,  an'  dey  don' 
think  as  how  she'll  live." 

Virginia  stood  and  stared  at  her  with 
eyes  which  saw  nothing.  Her  face  took 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  177 

on  a  ghastly  greenish  pallor.  About  her 
brow  and  mouth  there  stole  a  cold  moist- 
ure.  She  opened  her  lips,  and  seemed  to 
speak.  Her  lips  framed  the  same  words 
stupidly  over  and  over  again. 

"  Gord !  honey,"  cried  the  old  negress, 
seizing  her,  as  she  swayed  backward  as  if 
about  to  fall, "  is  yuh  gwine  be  sick  yuh- 
sef?" 

Virginia  pushed  her  away,  walked  stead 
ily  over  to  an  old  oak  cupboard,  took  out 
a  jug  of  whiskey,  and  drank  from  its  green 
glass  throat  as  she  had  seen  men  do.  The 
stinging  liquid  filled  her  veins  with  a  hot, 
false  strength.  She  spoke  quickly  now, 
in  a  harsh  tone,  seizing  the  old  nurse  by 
the  shoulders,  and  thrusting  her  white  face, 
with  its  lambent,  distended  eyes,  close  to 
that  of  the  terrified  Aunt  Tishy. 

"  When  was  she  took  ?  Who  tol'  yuh  ? 
Are  yuh  lyin'?  Ef  yuh're  lyin'  I'll  curse 
yuh  with  such  curses  yuh  won'  be  able 
to  be  still  when  yuh're  dead.  But  yuh 


178  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

wouldn'  lie  tuh  me,  would  yuh,  mammy? 
You  wouldn'  lie  to  me  to  send  me  tuh 
hell  in  th'  spirit  'fo'  I  was  called  there  fur 
good.  Yuh  hear  me  ?  Why  didn'  yuh 
tell  me  befo'?  Who's  with  her?  Who's 
nursin'  her?  Put  up  my  clo'es.  I'm  go- 
in' — I'm  goin'  right  now.  God !  Air  yuh 
a-tryin'  to  hold  me  ?  Ha !  ha !  That's 
good  —  that  cert'n'y  is  good.  I'll  make 
father  larf  at  that  when — when  I  come 
back.  Why,  you  pore  old  thing,  I  could 
throw  you  outer  that  winder  ef  I  tried. 
Well,  don't  cry.  What  a'  you  cryin'  fur  ? 
God !  God !  God  !  have  mercy  on  me!" 

She  fell  upon  her  knees,  wringing  her 
hands  and  throwing  backward  her  agonized 
face,  as  though  with  her  uplooking,  strain 
ing  eyes  she  would  pierce  the  very  floor  of 
heaven  and  behold  that  mercy  for  which 
she  pleaded.  Then  she  leaped  again  to  her 
feet.  All  at  once  a  calmness  fell  upon  her. 
She  resumed  the  old  dull  listlessness  of  some 
days  past  as  though  it  had  been  a  garment. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  179 

"  I'm  goin'  to  Mis'  ErroH's,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "  I  wan'  some  clo'es.  Send  'em ; 
I  ain't  er-goin'  tuh  wait.  Tell  father." 

Virginia,  arrived  at  Windemere,  went 
down  the  basement  steps  into  the  kitchen. 
The  cook,  a  young  mulatto  woman  named 
Lorinda,  came  forward  to  meet  her  on  cau 
tious,  brown-yarn  toes. 

"  Miss  Mary's  a-dyin',"  she  announced, 
in  a  sepulchral  whisper.  "  De  doctor  seh 
ez  how  she  kyarn'  live  nohow.  She's  jess 
ez  rade  ez  a  tomarker  fum  hade  tuh  foots. 
An'  she's  jess  pintly  'stracted.  Yuh  never 
heah  sich  screechin'  an'  tuh-doin'  in  all  yuh 
life." 

"  Kin  I  see  Mis'  Erroll  ?"  Virginia  said, 
shortly.  She  sat  down  on  an  upturned 
half-barrel  near  the  door,  and  leaned  with 
her  forehead  in  her  locked  palms.  Lorin 
da,  rebuffed  but  obliging,  went  to  see.  Vir 
ginia  was  not  surprised  when  she  returned 
shortly,  followed  by  Mrs.  Erroll  herself. 

Her  heart  would  never   quicken   its  beat 
12 


180  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

again  for  anything  this  side  of  torment, 
she  thought.  Poor,  erring,  repentant,  suf 
fering  little  savage,  what  are  you  enduring 
now  if  it  be  not  torment? 

Mrs.  Erroll,  nervous  and  hysterical,  took 
the  girl's  hands  in  hers,  and  scarcely  know 
ing  what  she  did,  bent  forward  and  kissed 
her  cheek.  Virginia  started  back  with  a 
harsh  cry,  which  was  born  and  died  in  her 
throat. 

"  Poor  child !"  Mrs.  Erroll  said,  humbly. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon.  But  if  you  feared  con 
tagion  you  ought  not  to  have  come  here." 

"  Tain't  that— 'tain't  that,"  said  Virginia. 
"  Don'  min'  me ;  I'm  queer  like  sometimes. 
I  didn'  mean  nuthin'.  Ev'ybordy  in  this 
neighborhood  '11  tell  yo'  I'm  a  good  nurse. 
I've  come  to  he'p  yo'.  I've  come  to  take 
kyar  of  her.  I've  come  to  make  her  live !" 

She  lifted  one  arm  with  a  gesture  of 
command  almost  threatening.  The  next 
moment  it  dropped  heavily  to  her  side. 
The  old  dull  look  crept  like  a  shadow 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  181 

over  the  momentary  animation  of  her  face. 
"They'll  tell  yo'  I'm  a  good  nurse,"  she 
said,  in  her  slow  monotone. 

Mrs.  Erroll  was  only  too  thankful  for  the 
proffered  services.  She  had  no  assistance 
from  the  whites  in  the  neighborhood;  in 
deed,  all  of  the  neighboring  families  had 
left  for  the  Virginia  Springs. 

Virginia,  after  removing  her  shoes,  went 
at  once  to  the  sick-room.  As  her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  flushed  face  on  the  pillow  it  was 
as  if  every  drop  of  blood  in  her  body  turned 
first  to  fire  and  then  to  ice. 

She  stood  with  her  hands  against  her 
breast  and  looked  down  at  her  own  work. 
The  beautiful  dark  tresses,  formerly  so 
smoothly  braided  about  the  small  head, 
now  ever  turning  from  side  to  side  as 
though  in  search  of  rest  which  it  found 
not,  were  tangled  and  matted  until  no 
trace  of  their  former  lustre  remained ;  the 
red  lips,  ever  moving,  gave  forth  wild,  inco 
herent  cries  and  mutterings. 


1 82  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

About  the  slender  throat  coiled  the 
wraith  of  a  dark-blue  velvet  ribbon. 

"  Take  it  off,  take  it  off,"  whispered  Vir 
ginia.  "  She  kyarn'  git  well  while  that's 
there — she  kyarn'."  Reason  came  back  to 
her  with  a  sudden  rush,  and  she  knew  that 
only  her  mind's  eye  saw  the  velvet  rib 
bon. 

She  then  took  her  place  by  the  bedside, 
from  which  she  did  not  move  to  eat  or 
sleep  for  twelve  days  and  nights.  They 
brought  her  bouillon  and  made  her  drink 
it  under  penalty  of  being  turned  from  the 
room.  For  twelve  times  four -and -twenty 
hours  she  listened  to  those  senseless  rav 
ings.  She  was  mistaken  in  turn  by  the 
sick  girl  for  her  mother,  for  some  of  her 
school -room  friends,  for  Roden.  Mary 
would  sometimes  put  up  both  narrow,  fe 
ver-wasted  hands  to  her  little  throat,  and 
cry  out  that  she  was  choking — that  Vir 
ginia  had  brought  her  a  band  of  fire  and 
locked  it  about  her  throat.  By  what  strange 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  183 

coincidence  such  a  fancy  should  have  pos 
sessed  her  who  shall  say  ? 

Thus    they    went    together,  those    two, 
through  the  Valley  of   the  Shadow — the 
all  but  murdered,  the  almost  murderess— 
and  she  who  had  sought  to  slay  brought 
back  to  life. 

Roden,  detained  by  some  business  com 
plication  in  New  York,  heard  nothing  of  his 
sweetheart's  illness  until  telegraphed  for  on 
the  day  of  the  crisis.  It  was  just  the  bal 
ance  of  a  mote  in  sunshine  between  life 
and  death.  Life  brought  the  mote  that 
won.  They  told  him  he  must  thank  Vir 
ginia.  They  had  all  thanked  her,  and 
blessed  her,  with  thanks  and  blessings 
which  burned  her  guilty  soul  with  twice 
the  fire  of  red-hot  maledictions.  That  they 
should  bless  her  whom  God  had  cursed ! 
Ah,  God,  she  prayed  not !  She  would  but 
know  if  God  himself  wept  not  because  of 
the  sad  mockery. 

A  wild  thought  came  to  her  with  heal- 


184  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

ing  in  its  wings,  as  when  a  blade  of  grass 
forces  its  way  between  the  stones  in  a 
prisoner's  cell.  She  had  read  of  atone 
ment:  might  she  not  atone? 

Perhaps  God  would  let  her  buy  forgive 
ness  with  her  life.  Why  had  she  not  taken 
the  fever;  or  was  this  fever  now  which 
rioted  through  her  veins  ?  She  was  walk 
ing  homeward  with  her  shoes  slung  across 
her  shoulders.  The  grass  felt  cool  and 
damp  against  her  bare  feet.  Would  it  not 
wither  where  she  trod?  She  looked  back 
ward  over  her  shoulder  with  a  laugh.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  her  footprints  would  be 
set  as  with  fire  across  that  lush  June  field. 

Then  came  a  curse  upon  her  eyes.  For 
her  the  earth  lost  all  its  summer  green; 
the  heavens  above  her  bent  not  bluely 
down  to  meet  the  blue  horizon.  The  birds 
ceased  singing,  and  echoed  her  mirthless 
laugh ;  all  nature  took  it  up — a  monstrous 
harmony  of  jovial  sounds.  At  what  were 
they  making  merry,  these  creatures  large 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  185 

and  small — the  crickets,  the  wild  birds,  the 
many  voices  of  field  and  forest,  of  air  and 
water  ? 

Was  it  at  her  they  laughed  ?  Did  they 
jeer  at  her  because  she  had  lost  her  soul  ? 
Ah,  for  the  cool  green  to  look  upon !  Ah, 
that  its  blue  would  return  to  the  lurid 
heavens !  The  curse  of  blood  was  upon 
her.  Because  of  it  she  looked  on  all  things 
as  through  a  scarlet  veil.  Red  was  the 
vault  above  her;  red  the  far-reaching  line 
of  well -loved  hills;  red,  red,  the  whirling 
earth. 

Virginia  did  not  die.  A  week  after  her 
recovery  she  sent  and  asked  if  Roden  would 
come  to  her  father's  room;  she  wished  to 
speak  with  him. 

He  went  most  willingly,  having  never 
felt  as  though  he  had  sufficiently  thanked 
her  for  what  she  had  done  for  one  who  was 
to  him  as  the  life  in  his  veins. 

As  he  entered  the  room,  in  spite  of  all 
his  self-control  he  could  not  restrain  a 


1 86  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

slight  start.  Was  this  Virginia  Herrick  ? 
— this  snow  maiden  with  eyes  of  fire,  and 
tangled  hair  that  seemed  to  flame  about 
her  white  face  as  though  it  would  consume 
it  ? — this  fragile,  wasted,  piteous  memory  of 
a  woman  ?  She  was  as  poor  a  likeness  of 
her  former  self  as  a  sketch  in  white  chalk 
would  be  of  one  of  Fortuny's  sunlit  glares 
of  canvas. 

He  came  and  stood  beside  her,  wordless, 
and  then  put  one  of  his  strong  brown  hands 
kindly  on  her  hair. 

"  Wait,"  she  said,  drawing  herself  away 
from  him — "  wait." 

"Ah,  Miss  Virginia,"  he  said,  in  his 
breezy,  gentle  voice,  "  we  will  soon  have 
you  out  of  this.  You  won't  know  your 
self  in  two  weeks." 

"  Wait,"  she  said,  her  great  eyes  burning 
into  his. 

"  My  poor  little  girl,"  he  said,  almost  with 
tenderness,  "  I  am  afraid  you  have  over 
estimated  your  strength.  You  had  better 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  187 

let  me  go  now.  I  will  come  to-morrow 
whenever  you  send  for  me." 

"  Wait,"  she  said  a  fourth  time,  in  that 
strange,  still  voice. 

He  had  a  horrified  doubt  in  regard  to 
her  reason  as  he  took  the  chair  to  which 
she  pointed  and  sat  down  facing  her. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  an  assumption  of 
gayety  which  he  was  far  from  feeling, 
"  what  is  it  ?  Am  I  to  be  scolded  for  any 
thing?" 

"  Do  you  believe  in  torment  ?"  said  the 
girl.  She  kept  her  hollow,  stirless  eyes  on 
his.  There  was  an  absence  of  movement 
about  her  almost  oppressive.  She  seemed 
not  even  to  breathe. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Roden,  nervously, 
"  do  choose  a  more  cheerful  subject.  Real 
ly,  you  know,  it  isn't  good  for  you  to  be 
morbid  now.  Let's  talk  of  something  jolly 
and  pleasant.  Don't  you  want  to  hear  how 
the  mokes  are  coming  along  ?  And  Bonni- 
bel,  poor  old  girl !  I'm  afraid  her  feelings 


1 88  Virginia  of  Virginia, 

will  be  awfully  hurt  when  I  tell  her  you 
didn't  ask  after  her." 

"  I  s'pose  ev'ybordy  bleeves  in  torment 
that  has  felt  it,"  said  the  girl.  She  had  not 
moved  in  anywise.  Her  deep,  still  eyes 
yet  rested  on  his  face.  She  seemed  drink 
ing  his  looks  with  hers.  "  I've  sorter  come 
ter  think  as  hell's  in  th'  hearts  o'  people," 
she  went  on.  "  There  ain't  no  flames  ez 
kin  burn  like  them  in  people's  hearts." 

Roden  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  went  over 
beside  her.  "  Virginia,"  he  said,  kindly  but 
firmly,  "  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  talk  like 
this.  Good  Heaven !  those  country  quacks 
know  as  little  about  medicine  as  I  do;  not 
as  much,  by  Jove !  for  I'd  not  have  let  you 
leave  your  bed  for  a  month  yet.  Come, 
dear,  let  me  persuade  you.  Go  back  to 
bed.  I'll  come  and  see  you  to-morrow  in 
your  room,  if  your  father  '11  let  me.  You 
must,  Virginia!" 

u  It  ain't  no  worse,  do  you  reckon,"  she 
went  on,  dully,  "  tub  be  in  hell  than  tuh  have 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  189 

hell  in  you  ?  I've  thought  er  heap  'bout  it. 
I've  most  answered  it,  but  I'd  rather — " 

"  Hush  !  hush  !"  said  Roden,  imperatively. 
He  thought  her  delirious,  and  started  to  the 
door  to  call  her  nurse. 

"  Wait !"  rang  out  her  voice,  with  all  its 
old,  clear  strength.  She  had  risen  to  her 
feet.  She  was  there  before  him.  The  light 
from  the  window  behind  her  struck  through 
her  hair,  so  that  she  seemed  standing  be 
tween  rows  of  living  flame.  "  I  want  tuh 
tell  you,"  she  said.  "  I  didn't  use  tuh  think 
I  was  a  coward,  but  I  am — I  am !"  She 
beat  the  palms  of  her  hands  together,  and 
tossed  back  her  head  as  though  seeking  to 
be  rid  of  the  superflux  of  agony  which  tore 
her.  "  I  kyarn'  bear  to  say  it  tuh  yo' ;  I 
kyarn'  bear  to  hear  yo'  curse  me,  ez  I  have 
so  often  hearn  yo'  in  my  dreams.  I  kyarn' 
bear — O  God  ! — I  kyarn'  bear  fur  yo'  tuh 
know  me  ez  I  am.  O  God !  O  God !  this 
'11  wipe  it  out,  won't  it?  This  '11  buy  me 
peace  ?" 


190  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  Virginia !  Virginia !"  said  Roden,  beside 
himself.  He  tried  to  force  her  again  into 
her  chair. 

"Ah!  don't  touch  me!"  she  cried  out — 
"don't  yuh  touch  me,  tuh  hate  me  worse 
than  ever  when  yuh  know —  Listen — lis 
ten  hard,  'cause  yuh  ain't  a-goin'  to  bleeve 
me  when  first  yuh  hear.  Yuh  come  here  tuh 
thank  me  fur  savin'  her  life.  Listen :  'twas 
me  ez  tried  to  kill  her — 'twas  me !  me !  me !" 
The  last  word  broke  from  her  with  a  wild 
sob,  almost  vindictive  in  its  urgent  violence. 
She  seemed  like  one  who  scourges  merci 
lessly  his  own  flesh  for  its  sins  against  his 
soul.  "  I  done  it — I  done  it.  I  tried  ter 
kill  her.  Listen !  You've  hearn  o'  fever 
bein'  cyar'd  in  bits  o'  ribbon — in  leetle  bits  o' 
velvet  ribbon — one,  two,  ten,  twenty  years  ? 
There  was  a  leetle  baby  died  here  onc't.  It 
died  o'  th'  fever  she  liked  tuh  'a'  died  of.  I 
give  her  that  piece  o'  velvet  to  w'ar  roun' 
her  pretty  throat.  I  went  up  intuh  th'  attic, 
an'  hunted  an'  hunted  till  I  found  it  in  th' 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  191 

baby's  cradle.  I  give  it  to  her.  I  tried  to 
kill  her.  O  my  God  !  Do  yo'  want  tuh 
touch  me — now  ?" 

He  stood  and  stared  on  her  like  one 
dazed  by  a  sudden  blow,  though  not  quite 
stunned. 

"You  are  crazy,"  he  said,  thickly.  "  Poor 
Virginia,  you  are  crazy." 

"  O  God !"  she  wailed.  "  I  wisht  I  wuz— 
I  wisht  I  wuz!  Oh,  ef  I  wuz  only  like  them 
dumb  beasts  in  th'  stables  out  thar!  Ef  I 
wuz  only  Bonnibel,  then — then — then  yuh 
wouldn'  hate  me ;  an'  ef  yuh  did,  I  wouldn' 
know." 

"  You  are  raving,"  he  said  again. 

"  Ask  her — ask  her,  if  yo'  don'  bleeve  me. 
Ask  her  'f  Faginia  Herrick  didn'  bring  her 
a  leetle  bit  o'  blue  velvet  to  w'ar  round  her 
throat  the  night  she  got  wet  in  th'  rain. 
She  said  then  it  smelt  damp  like  it  had 
been  in  a  attic.  Ask  her — ask  her." 

"  God  in  heaven !"  said  Roden,  between 
his  teeth,  "can  you  be  telling  me  the  truth?" 


1 92  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"He  knows  I  am ! — He  knows  I  am !"  she 
said,  wildly. 

Roden  turned  from  her,  resting  his  hand 
on  the  back  of  the  chair  in  which  he  had 
sat  when  he  first  entered  the  room.  His 
head  drooped.  The  double  horror  seemed 
like  a  palpable  thing  at  his  side. 

"  D'  yo'  bleeve  me  ?"  she  said,  with  pant 
ing  eagerness. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  She  would  not  have  rec 
ognized  his  voice  had  he  spoken  in  the  dark. 

She  waited  a  few  moments,  motionless, 
frozen,  as  it  were,  with  suspense  and  dread. 
Then  she  leaned  forward,  and  holding  fast 
her  bosom  with  her  crossed  arms  in  the 
gesture  usual  with  her,  fixed  her  dilating 
eyes  upon  him.  Was  it  possible,  could  it 
be  true,  that  after  all  he  could  not  curse 
her  ?  Nay,  dear  God !  was  he  even  going 
to  forgive  her? 

"  Say  something"  she  said,  in  a  bated 
voice — "say  somethin'.  Jess  so  you  don' 
curse  me,  say  somethin'." 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  193 

Still  he  spoke  not.  She  fell  upon  her 
knees  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  feet. 
"  O  my  God  !  my  God  !"  she  sobbed,  "  air 
yuh  goin'  tuh  furgive  me  ?" 

Then  he  spoke  to  her.  "  Forgive  you  ?" 
he  repeated — "  forgive  you  ?"  He  laughed 
a  short,  rough  laugh.  "  By  G —  !"  he  said, 
turning  away  from  her,  so  that  her  fore 
head  rested  on  the  bare  floor  instead  of  on 
his  feet, "  it's  all  I  can  do  not  to  curse  you !" 

When  she  rose  again  to  her  knees  she 
was  alone  in  the  darkening  room. 


VIII. 

RODEN  did  not  return  to  Caryston  that 
night,  nor  the  next  day,  nor  the  day  after 
that.  A  boy  was  sent  from  Windemere 
to  bring  over  some  of  his  boxes.  On  Mon 
day  of  the  next  week  he  went  with  the  Er- 
rolls  to  Old  Point  Comfort,  where  Mary 
had  been  ordered  to  stop  during  her  con 
valescence. 

As  much  as  he  despised  Virginia  for  her 
confession,  that  pathetic,  joyous  cry  of  hers 
as  she  thought  him  about  to  forgive  her 
would  sometimes  ring  in  his  ears ;  her 
deep,  still,  pleading  look,  as  of  some  dumb 
beast,  for  mercy  haunted  him  at  times. 
He  could  feel  her  forehead  on  his  feet, 
and  the  eager  grasp  of  her  hands  upon 
them.  It  was  not  pleasant,  all  this;  for 
while  it  annoyed  and  even  pained  him,  he 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  195 

could  not  say  honestly  to  himself  that  he 
felt  any  disposition  to  forgive  her.  For 
giveness  is  no  doubt  divine.  Roden  was 
quite  sure  that  it  was  an  attribute  which, 
like  happiness,  belonged  solely  to  the  gods. 
As  for  himself,  he  was  distinctly,  vehe 
mently,  entirely  human.  He  did  not  for 
give —  almost  he  did  not  wish  to  feel  for 
giveness.  What!  forgive  a  creature  who 
had  sought  to  murder  his  manhood's  one 
love?  Verily  he  would  be  no  better  than 
herself  did  he  so  much  as  dream  of  pardon. 
Between  her  and  her  God  must  rest  that 
question.  He  would  none  of  it.  And 
yet  why  did  that  earnest,  wistful  voice,  so 
thrilling  with  a  timid  exultation,  come 
ever  to  his  mental  ears :  "  O  my  God ! 
my  God!  air  you  goin'  ter  furgive  me?" 
Pshaw !  what  balderdash !  He  had  not 
cursed  her.  Let  her  comfort  herself  with 
that.  He  did  not  know  many  other  men 
who  would  have  been  as  forbearing.  And 
yet  again — those  hands  about  his  feet,  that 
13 


196  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

huddled  form  prone  before  him  in  hum 
blest  entreaty!  It  made  him  irritable  at 
times.  He  was  conscious  of  having  acted 
with  perfect  justness,  and  yet  he  felt  that 
his  justness  had  not  been  tempered  with 
overmuch  mercy. 

In  the  mean  time  Virginia  lived  on,  if 
one  can  be  said  to  live  whose  heart  is  dead 
within  her.  She  did  not  dare  to  pray  for 
death ;  she  did  not  dare  to  hope  for  peace ; 
she  feared  to  die,  poor  ignorant  child,  be 
cause  of  the  roaring  flame  which  waited 
to  devour  her.  She  feared  even  more  to 
live,  because  of  the  fice  with  which  she 
was  already  consumed.  She  never  moved 
save  to  go  to  bed  and  get  up  again.  Some 
times  she  would  sit  all  day  out-of-doors 
under  the  great  horse-chestnuts,  already 
shrivelling  in  the  June  sunlight.  Noth 
ing  roused  her;  nothing  moved  her  in 
anywise.  Poor  old  Herrick  would  re 
count  to  her  his  drollest  stories,  ending 
with  a  vociferous  "  Hyeah !  hyeah !"  in 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  197 

hopes  of  eliciting  some  answering  mirth 
from  her.  But  when  he  had  reached  the 
most  excruciatingly  funny  climax,  and 
paused  to  hear  her  laugh,  she  would  turn 
on  him  her  vague,  gentle  eyes,  and  say, 
"What's  that,  father?"  or  sometimes,"  Were 
you  a-talkin'  ter  me,  father  dear  ?" 

The  old  man  went  heavily  about  his 
work.  He  was  like  some  willing  beast  too 
late  in  life  called  upon  to  support  a  heavy 
burden.  He  was  disgusted  and  angry  to 
feel  the  big  tears  on  his  cheeks. 

"  The  beauty  of  the  question  air,"  he 
quoth,  angrily,  to  himself  one  day, "  I  ain't 
wuth  th'  victuals  I  eat.  I'm  a  pore  ole 
fool  ez  oughter  be  a-suckin'  ov  a  sugar 
rag,  'stead  o'  tendin'  ter  er  beeg  place  like 
this ;  but,  Godamighty !  ef  that  thar  gyrl 
don'  git  a  heap  peerter  'fo'  long,  I'm  gwine 
plumb  crazy.  My  sakes !  who'd  'a'  ever 
thought  Faginia  would  a-set  all  day  like 
that  a-studyin'  her  own  han's  like  they  wuz 
the  book  o'  Gord !  Howsomdever,  'tain't 


198  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

many  ez  studies  th'  book  o'  Gord  ez  faith 
ful  ez  my  pore  leetle  gyrl  studies  them 
han's  o'  hern.  Somethin'  cert'n'y  is  out  o' 
kelter  with  that  thar  chile.  Godamighty ! 
ef  Faginia  wuz  ter  die — " 

He  stopped  blankly  in  the  midst  of  the 
cornfield  through  which  he  was  walking, 
and  thrusting  his  hands  deep  in  his  brown 
jeans  trousers  -  pockets,  looked  up  appeal- 
ingly  at  the  hot  blue  sky. 

That  same  evening  he  was  summoned 
as  juryman  to  Charlottes ville,  a  village 
some  fifteen  miles  from  Caryston,  and  as 
he  kissed  Virginia  good-by  his  heart  rose 
in  his  throat.  The  face  she  lifted  to  his 
was  so  wan,  so  patient,  so  like  the  face  of 
her  young  mother  just  ere  she  died,  twenty- 
one  years  ago. 

"  Leetle  gyrl — leetle  gyrl,"  said  the  old 
man,  brokenly,  "  ef  you  don'  want  tuh  hur 
ry  yo'  father  tuh  his  grave,  yo'll  hurry  en 
take  them  purty  leetle  foots  out  o'  yourn. 
Darter,  honey,  try  'n'  git  some  o'  them  ole 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  199 

red  roses  in  them  white  cheeks.  Please, 
Faginia,  honey,  I'm  'mos'  worrited  to  death 
'long  o'  you." 

"  Pore  father !"  she  said,  stroking  his  face 
— "  pore  father !"  that  was  all.  Her  listless 
hand  fell  again  into  her  lap.  Her  eyes  fixed 
themselves  with  their  vague,  uncomprehend 
ing  look  upon  the  far  blue  distance.  She 
was  as  much  apart  from  him  as  though  she 
were  already  dead.  He  rose  to  his  feet, 
strangling  a  sob  in  his  brave  old  throat, 
that  he  might  not  distress  her,  and  rode 
manfully  away  to  his  unpleasant  duty. 

That  night  a  dreadful  thing  occurred  at 
Caryston.  The  "mill  stable,"  as  it  was 
generally  called,  from  being  built  on  a  hill 
just  above  the  mill-pond,  caught  on  fire. 
There  were  four  of  Roden's  most  valuable 
horses  in  it,  together  with  Bonnibel,  who 
had  been  moved  from  the  house  stables 
while  they  were  undergoing  alteration. 

Virginia  was  sitting  silent  by  her  bed 
room  window  when  the  first  copper  glare 


2OO  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

began  to  tinge  the  dense  upward  column  of 
black  smoke.  She  knew  in  a  minute  what 
it  was,  although  Aunt  Tishy  muttered  some 
thing  about  "  bresh  "  fires. 

She  leaped  to  her  feet,  her  heart  once 
more  renewing  its  old-time  measure.  "  Mam 
my  !"  she  called — "  Mammy !  that's  th'  mill 
stable !  th'  mill  stable's  on  fire !  O  God 
above !  Th'  pore  horses  —  an'  Bonnibel ! 
O  pore  Mr.  Jack — pore  Mr.  Jack  !  Ef  Bon- 
nibel's  hurt,  it'll  break  his  heart."  She  had 
forgotten  everything  in  her  thought  for  him. 
Her  own  sin,  his  harsh  words — all  that  had 
passed  between  them  since  first  he  gave 
Bonnibel  into  her  glad  keeping. 

"  Here  !"  she  called,  tossing  on  her  clothes 
with  nervous,  eager  fingers,  "  han'  me  my 
shoes — quick  ! — Lord  God ! — ef  only  I  ken 
git  thar  in  time  !" 

She  was  down-stairs  and  out  of  the  house 
almost  before  the  old  negress  knew  what 
she  was  about  to  undertake.  Out  at  a  side 
gate  she  dashed,  and  down  a  grassy  hill  at 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  201 

the  back  of  the  house.  Some  catalpa-tree 
roots  caught  at  her  flying  feet  with  their 
knotty  fingers  as  though,  fiend -like,  they 
would  hinder  her  on  her  errand  of  mercy. 
On,  on ;  her  breath  came  quick  and  labor 
ing.  She  was  on  the  open  road  now,  strain 
ing  with  all  her  might  up  a  steep,  stone- 
roughed  hill.  All  the  northern  heavens 
were  ablaze  with  an  angry  orange.  As  she 
gained  the  top  of  the  hill  a  little  fan  of  lilac 
flames  burst  from  the  stable  roof  against 
the  night.  There  was  yet  time — Bonnibel 
was  in  a  loose-box  near  the  door.  O  God, 
the  other  horses !  Must  they  roast  alive — 
the  beautiful,  agile  creatures  that  he  so 
loved  ? 

Below,  in  the  placid  breast  of  the  large 
pond,  the  lurid  mass  above  was  reflected 
with  an  effect  as  incongruous  as  when 
some  world -tossed  soul  pours  out  its  hot 
confession  into  the  calm  keeping  of  a  saint 
ly  heart. 

The   shallow   stream    shoaled    into    fire 


2O2  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

among  the  black  stems  of  the  water-reeds, 
and  tossed  the  flames  upon  its  mimic  waves. 
She  gained  the  rough  bridge  which  spanned 
it;  her  feet  passed  with  a  swift,  hollow 
sound  across  it.  She  was  there — at  the 
stable,  and  her  breath  had  not  yet  given 
out.  Then  all  at  once  she  remembered. 
Oh,  joy !  joy !  If  she  saved  Bonnibel,  and 
was  herself  hurt  to  death,  would  not  that 
be  atonement?  Might  he  not  forgive  her 
then  ?  Poor  little  savage  child  —  poor, 
sweet,  uncivilized,  true  heart!  I  think  in 
deed  he  would  forgive  you  if  he  knew. 

There  were  men  running  frantically 
about  —  omnipresent  —  useless :  they  had 
delayed  so  long  to  set  about  extinguishing 
the  fire  that  it  was  now  beyond  all  bounds. 
The  wild,  dull  trampling  of  the  hoofs  of 
the  terrified  horses  made  horror  in  the  air. 
They  whinnied  and  nickered  like  children 
pleading  for  help.  One  of  the  English 
grooms  was  dashing  into  the  smoke  and 
heat.  Virginia  seized  him  by  the  arm. 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  203 

"  I'm  coming  with  you,"  she  said ;  "  let 
me  keep  hold  of  your  coat." 

Alas!  alas!  the  maddened,  silly  brutes 
refused  to  follow.  They  reared  madly 
whenever  approached,  and  struck  with  their 
fore-feet  at  the  plucky  little  lad.  In  no  way 
could  he  approach  them ;  threats  and  ca 
jolery  were  in  vain.  Virginia  snatched  a 
whip  from  the  stable  wall  and  tried  to  beat 
them  out.  Usurper,  vicious  to  the  last, 
rushed  furiously  at  her,  and  but  for  the 
lad's  striking  him  over  the  head  with  a 
pitchfork,  would  inevitably  have  dashed  her 
brains  out  with  his  wicked  hoofs.  There 
was  no  further  time  to  be  lost.  One  side 
of  the  roof  was  blazing  ominously,  and  the 
wall  on  the  eastern  side  began  to  tremble. 

Virginia,  in  spite  of  entreaties  and  hands 
held  out  to  stop  her,  turned  her  skirts  about 
her  head  and  went  into  Bonnibel's  box. 
"  Six  of  us  'ave  tried  to  get  'er  out,  miss," 
said  the  panting  lad,  who  had  followed  her. 
"  Don't  you  venture  in,  for  God's  sake,  miss; 


2O4  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

she's  that  mad  she'll  kill  you  —  th'  poor 
hussy !" 

Bonnibel  was  in  truth  like  a  horse  dis 
traught.  She  was  leaping  back  and  forth, 
and  trotting  from  side  to  side  of  her  capa 
cious  box,  nickering  from  time  to  time, 
with  head  aloft  and  tail  held  like  a  plume 
above  her  satin  quarters.  No  sooner  did 
she  hear  Virginia's  voice  than  she  stopped 
short,  quivering  in  every  splendid  limb  and 
sinew. 

"  Bonnibel !"  said  Virginia,  in  that  soft 
monotone  the  frightened  creature  had  not 
now  heard  for  many  a  day — "  Bonnibel !" 
There  was  a  second's  pause ;  then  stooping 
her  bright  head,  with  a  low  whinny  as  of 
welcome  and  trust,  the  gallant  mare  came 
to  the  well-known  voice. 

Virginia  tore  off  her  woollen  shawl  and 
blindfolded  the  bright  eyes. 

In  the  mean  time  the  rest  of  the  English 
lads  and  the  head  groom  had  arrived,  with 
fire-engines  and  more  help.  They  had  al- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  205 

ready  succeeded  in  getting  the  horse  out. 
The  vicious  Usurper  they  were  compelled 
to  leave  to  his  awful  fate. 

"  Boys,  Bonnibel's  coming  P  yelled  the 
lad  who  had  entered  the  stable  with  Vir 
ginia,  dashing  out  ahead  of  her ;  "  Miss 
Herrick's  got  her,  and  she's  coming  kind 
as  a  lamb !" 

A  hearty,  roaring  cheer  went  up  from 
without,  mingled  with  exultant  warwhoops 
from  the  negroes  gathered  around. 

Almost  they  were  safe.  Why  do  things 
happen  with  only  an  inch  between  safety 
and  destruction  ?  One  instant  more  and 
horse  and  woman  would  have  been  free. 
But  in  that  tarrying  instant  a  heavy  beam 
from  the  front  of  the  stable  fell  crashing 
down,  bringing  with  it  a  great  mass  of 
bricks  and  mortar.  Virginia  and  Bonni- 
bel  were  half  buried  under  the  reeking 
mass.  The  flames  sent  up  an  exultant 
roar  as  of  triumph.  There  was  a  smother 
ed,  horrified  groan  from  the  men,  and  then 


206  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Bonnibel,  freeing  herself  by  one  powerful 
effort  of  her  iron  quarters,  galloped  off  into 
the  coolness  of  the  night. 

They  pulled  Virginia  out,  with  such  gen 
tleness  as  they  could  spare  to  the  encroach 
ing  flames,  and  a  bed  was  instantly  made  for 
her  on  the  damp  turf  by  means  of  the  men's 
hastily  torn-off  coats.  She  lay  there,  still, 
white,  most  beautiful,  with  peace  at  last 
upon  her  tired  face.  Did  she  dream,  per 
chance,  that  he  forgave  her? 

Ah !  but  the  horror  that  followed — the 
crash  succeeding  crash,  the  hideous  riot 
ing  of  the  vengeful  flames  about  the  poor 
brutes  within.  Some  were  suffocated,  some 
jammed  to  death  beneath  the  continually 
falling  masses  of  stone  and  brick.  Usurp 
er,  dauntless,  rebellious  to  the  last,  struck 
with  his  iron-shod  feet  at  the  flames  that 
made  too  free  with  him.  He  was  so  magnifi 
cent  in  his  fierce  disdain  that  more  than 
one  of  the  grooms  sobbed  like  girls  at  the 
fate  which  had  overtaken  him.  All  at  once 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  207 

a  cry,  piercing,  shrill,  terrible  above  any 
sound  which  had  ever  come  upon  their 
hearing,  shook  the  stillness  of  the  night  to 
shuddering  echoes.  It  was  the  one  and  only 
sign  of  pain  that  Usurper  gave  ere  he  sank 
to  an  awful  death  among  the  blazing  ruins. 

Virginia's  senses  returned  to  her  as  they 
were  carrying  her  home  in  solemn  silence 
and  with  bared  heads.  She  tried  to  lift 
herself  on  one  elbow,  and  sank  back  with  a 
moan  of  pain ;  but  even  for  that  there  went 
up  some  muttered  thanks  from  the  men  who 
carried  her.  They  had  thought  her  dead. 

"  Does  the  moving  pain  you,  miss  ?"  ask 
ed  the  lad  who  had  been  with  her  in  Bon- 
nibel's  box. 

"  It  hurts  some,"  she  said,  bravely. 
"  What's  happened  ?" 

They  had  to  tell  her  all  about  the  fire, 
as  though  it  were  a  thing  new  to  her,  and 
how  she  had  saved  Bonnibel. 

"Oh,  did  I?"  she  said.  "Did  I?  — air 
yuh  sure  ?" 


208  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  Sure,  miss  ?"  echoed  the  admiring  Hicks. 
"  Sure  ?  Well,  I  think  we  be  pretty  sure  o' 
that  'ere !  Bean't  we,  boys  ?" 

They  could  not  say  enough. 

One  thought  was  making  music  in  Vir 
ginia's  heart.  "  Perhaps  he'll  forgive  me 
now,"  she  said  over  and  over  to  herself. 
She  looked  upward  at  the  starry  heavens 
through  the  broad  leaves  of  the  catalpa- 
trees,  as  they  bore  her  up  the  last  hill  to 
the  house,  with  a  feeling  closely  akin  to 
joy.  "  I've  saved  Bonnibel,"  she  thought — 
"  I've  saved  Bonnibel,  anyways ;  ef  he  don't 
forgive  me,  I've  done  somethin'  to  make 
him  glad.  'Twas  awful  in  that  burnin' 
place;  but  I  saved  her — I  saved  her — I 
saved  her."  She  said  the  last  three  words 
out  loud. 

"  That  you  did,  miss,"  said  the  boy  Hicks, 
who  walked  close  beside  her.  "  Tell  her 
again,  boys." 

They  told  her  over  and  over  again,  first 
one  and  then  the  other;  she  seemed  never 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  209 

tired  of  listening.  For  the  first  time  in 
many,  many  days  her  white  lips  fell  into 
the  gracious  curves  they  used  to  know  so 
well.  She  was  smiling — smiling  for  sheer 
happiness.  She  was  hurt  to  death,  she 
knew  that ;  something  whispered  it  in  her 
glad  ears  as  distinctly  as  though  the  good 
God  had  bent  from  his  great  heavens  him 
self  to  tell  her  so ;  and  she  knew — ah  !  she 
knew  —  that  her  God  had  forgiven  her. 
Death  had  brought  her  two  gifts  so  sweet 
in  his  chill  arms  that  his  embrace  scarcely 
frightened  her.  As  they  carried  her  with 
slow  carefulness  up  the  front  steps  and 
into  the  wide  hall  an  innocent  fancy  seized 
her ;  she  would  like  so  much  to  die  in  Mr. 
Jack's  room — on  his  little  iron  bed.  There 
couldn't  be  any  harm,  could  there  ?  She 
looked  so  wistfully  up  into  the  face  of  little 
Hicks  that  he  felt  she  wanted  something, 
and  asked  her  what  it  was. 

"  Kyar   me   into    Mr.  Jack's   room,"  she 
whispered.     "  It's — it's  nearer  the  ground." 


2io  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

The  pretty  subterfuge  was  also  a  very 
good  one.  It  would  have  been  almost  mor 
tal  anguish  to  her,  had  they  sought  to  bear 
her  poor  wrecked  body  up  that  winding 
stair-way. 

So  into  "  Mr.  Jack's  room  "  they  carried 
her,  and  placed  her  full  gently  on  his  for 
saken  bed. 

Aunt  Tishy  came  hurrying  with  inartic 
ulate  cries.  They  hushed  her  as  best  they 
might,  telling  her  that  any  disturbance 
might  kill  the  girl.  Then  little  Hicks 
mounted  one  of  Roden's  best  horses  and 
dashed  off  in  search  of  a  surgeon. 

Virginia  lay  quiet  and  quite  content,  star 
ing  with  wide-open  eyes  at  the  well-known 
objects  in  the  airy  room.  Another  delight 
ful  fancy  seized  upon  her.  Ah !  it  was  good 
to  lie  there  and  die,  and  pretend  that  she 
had  been  his  wife,  and  that  it  was  her  right 
to  die  in  there  with  all  those  much -loved 
manly  kickshaws  about  her:  the  Scotch 
deer -stalker's  cap,  which  hung  on  one  of 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  211 

the  sconces  of  a  little  mirror  over  the  man 
tle  ;  that  heap  of  glittering  spurs  on  a  table 
near  at  hand ;  his  whip ;  his  boots ;  an  old 
blue  flannel  shirt  on  the  bed's  foot.  She 
had  not  allowed  any  one  to  enter  his  room 
since  he  left  for  Windemere,  nor  had  she 
herself  been  in  it. 

And  even  if  he  didn't  forgive  her,  she 
saved  Bonnibel.  Suddenly  there  came  upon 
her  an  awful,  crashing  agony. 

"  Mammy !  mammy  !"  she  called,  in  her 
childhood's  voice.  She  clung  to  her  old 
nurse  with  might  and  main.  "  Oh,  mammy, 
mammy,  I'm  payin'  fur  it !  Yuh  don'  know, 
but  I'm  payin'  fur  it.  I'm  so  glad — I'm  so 
glad  !  Mammy,  sing  me  'bout  *  though  yo* 
sins  be  as  scarlet ' — sing !  sing !" 

The  old  negress,  as  well  as  she  could  for 
sobbing,  sang  to  her  in  such  words  as  these : 

"  Tis  de  old  ship  o'  Zion, 
Come  to  take  us  all  ho-ome — 

Glory,  glory,  hallelujah ! 
'Tis  de  old  ship  o'  Zion, 
14 


212  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

Come  to  take  us  all  home — 
Glory,  glory,  hallelujah !" 

Here  she  broke  off  with  a  pitiful  cry:  "O 
Gord !  my  sweet  lamb,  mammy  kyarn'  sing 
to  you  while  her  heart's  fyar  breakin'  in  her. 
Don'  ask  pore  mammy  tuh  sing,  my  honey 
—don1,  don' !" 

"  Sing,  please,  sing,"  said  the  girl,  with 
gentle  insistence.  Her  mind  was  failing 
her  a  little  for  the  first  time.  "  God  alluz 
furgives,  don'  he,  mammy?  Alluz,  alluz. 
Sing  'bout  it,  mammy ;  please,  mammy, 
sing." 

The  old  negress  went  on,  brokenly: 

"  We  has  landed  many  thousands — 

Hallelujah  ! 

An'  we'll  Ian'  many  mo-re — 
Hallelujah  !" 

"  Please  sing  'bout  the  sins,  mammy ; 
that's  what  I  want — 'bout  the  sins." 

The  poor  old  woman  crooned  on,  sway 
ing  her  body  to  and  fro  as  she  crouched 
at  the  bedside: 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  213 

"  Do'  yo'  sins  be  as  skyarlet, 
Dey  shall  be  as  white  as  snow — 

Glory,  glory,  hallelujah  ! 
Do'  yo'  sins  be  as  skyarlet, 
Dey  shall  be  as  white  as  snow — 

Glory,  glory,  hallelujah  ! 
'Tis  Jesus  is  deir  Capt'in — 

Hallelujah  ! 

'Tis  Jesus  is  deir  Capt'in — 
Hallelujah  !" 

"  White  ez  snow — white  ez  snow,"  mur 
mured  the  girl.  "  Mammy,  do  yo'  bleeve 
that?  Ain't  it  sweet,  mammy?  don'  it 
seem  good  an'  kind  ?  Mammy,  yo'  see 
that  ole  blue  shirt  a-hangin'  thar?  I  loves 
that  shirt,  mammy,  same  as  some  women 
loves  their  children.  It's  sorter  got  his 
shape  now,  ain't  it  ?  Hand  it  here,  mam 
my.  Don'  it  smell  good? — kinder  briery 
an'  soapy,  mammy  ?  He  used  to  take 
more  barths  'n  any  man  yo'  ever  hearn 
ov.  I  used  ter  hear  him  a-splashin'  clear 
up  in  my  room.  Where's  father,  mam 
my?  I  do  want  to  see  father,  an'  I  want 


214  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

to  see  Bonnibel  'fore  I  go.  She  came  to 
me— oh,  so  sweet  an'  lovin'!  She  knew 
I'd  'a'  died  fur  her,  I  reckon.  Mammy, 
did  yo'  sen'  fur  father  ?  Pore  father !  pore 
father !  he'll  be  so  sorry !  Oh,  pore  father !" 
Here  the  first  tears  she  had  shed  rolled 
over  her  white  cheeks.  The  old  negress 
sobbed  out  aloud. 

"  Oh,  my  honey !"  she  said — "  oh,  my  lit 
tle  lamb  ! — oh,  my  honey !" 

Again  came  that  terrible  pain,  almost  be 
yond  her  power  to  endure. 

"  I'm  payin'  fur  it — I'm  payin'  fur  it," 
she  said,  over  and  over  again.  "  God's  so 
good  to  me!  He's  forgiven  me;  he's  let- 
tin'  me  pay  fur  it." 

The  surgeon  came  at  daybreak.  He 
was  quiet  and  serious.  Little  Hicks  was 
the  only  one  to  whom  he  told  anything. 
To  him  he  said, "  She  may  live  two  or 
three  days ;  she  may  die  before  night." 

At  one  o'clock  next  day  old  Herrick  re 
turned.  He  was  wordless  and  almost  ma- 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  215 

jestic  in  his  deep  grief.  All  day  long  he 
sat  holding  her  in  such  positions  as  would 
ease  her;  talking  to  her;  trying  to  follow 
her  wandering  fancies.  She  knew  him 
always,  though  she  knew  no  one  else. 
"  Father,"  she  said,  suddenly,  in  one  of  the 
intervals  when  reason  returned  to  her, 
"  won't  you  please  sen'  fur  Mr.  Jack  ? 
Somethin'  in  my  heart  tells  me  he'll  come 
— now.  Write  to  him  'bout  Bonnibel.  Tell 
him  I  saved  her.  Tell  him  I  jess  want  ter 
say  good-by.  I  don'  wan'  him  ever  ter  fur- 
give  me.  I  only  want  to — to  look  at  him 
once  more.  Father"  —  wistfully  —  "you 
think  he'll  come?" 

"Yes,  yes,  my   little   girl,  I   think   he'll 


come." 


"  Then  write,  write,  father — quick.  Don' 
let  it  be  too  late.  I  wan'  so  bad  to  look  at 
him  once  more !" 

He  came — oh  yes,  he  came!  mad  with 
regret  and  remorse,  repentant,  eager  to 
atone.  "Where  is  she?  where  is  she?" 


216  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

he  asked  as  he  threw  down  his  hat  upon 
the  hall  table,  and  jerked  off  his  spurs,  that 
their  jingling  might  not  disturb  her.  If 
he  had  only  known  the  music  that  they 
made  to  her  ears ! 

"  She's  in  yo'  room,  sur.  They  tells  me 
ez  how  'twar  her  fancy  to  be  took  thar," 
said  Herrick,  simply.  "  I  hope  ez  you  don' 
min',  sur." 

Mind !  Jack's  eyes  were  hot  with  the 
saddest  tears  of  all  his  life. 

He  went  in  softly.  There  she  lay,  pa 
thetic,  fragile  as  some  long-ill  child  upon 
his  narrow  bed.  He  went  and  stooped 
over  her,  taking  into  one  of  his  brown 
hands  her  restless,  slender  fingers.  Her 
gentle  look  rested  unknowingly  upon  him. 

"  Ain't  they  goin'  ter  sen'  fur  Mr.  Jack  ?" 
she  said.  "  I  think  he'll  come — now ;  fa 
ther  thought  ez  how  he  would.  Please 
write  it  down  that  I  saved  Bonnibel — 
please  write  that  down.  Twas  mighty  hot, 
but  I  saved  her.  Oh,  don'  yo'  think  he'll 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  2 1  ^ 

come  ? — don'  yo'  think  he'll  come  ?  I  don' 
even  arst  him  to  speak  to  me.  Ef  he'll 
only  stand  in  th'  door  so  ez  I  kin  see  him 
when  I  go." 

"  Virginia —  Virginia,"  said  Roden,  bro 
kenly.  "  My  dear  little  girl,  don't  you 
know  me  ?  Here  I  am  ! — here — at  your 
side.  Don't  you  feel  my  hands,  Virginia  ? 
Don't  you  know  me  ?" 

She  went  rambling  on.  "  I  wonder  ef 
he  would  f urgive  me  ef  he  knew  ?  I  wisht 
Bonnibel  could  tell  him  —  I  wisht  I  was 
Bonnibel!"  with  a  little  rippling  laugh  in 
finitely  pathetic.  "  Oh,  wouldn'  I  kyar  him 
pretty  an'  straight  at  his  fences,  an'  win 
ev'y  race  fur  him!"  Her  eyes  opened 
vague  and  sorrowful  again  upon  Roden's 
pale  face.  "  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  long 
sighing  breath, "  don't  you  think  he'll  come  ? 
Write  to  him  'bout  Bonnibel — please  write 
that  ter  him." 

"  Virginia,  look  at  me — look  at  me,"  said 
the  young  man,  half  lifting  her  in  his  arms. 


2 1 8.  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

"  Dear  little  Virginia,  here  I  am.  I  forgive 
you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  Virginia. 
Oh,  please  look  at  me,  please  remember 


me." 


"  Who  says  '  furgive  ?'  "  she  said,  with  her 
restless,  eager  eyes  searching  the  room  as 
if  for  something  long  expected — "  who  says 
1  furgive  ?' " 

"  I  do,  I  do,"  Roden  said,  weeping  at  last 
like  any  girl.  "  I  forgive  you,  Virginia — 
Virginia.  You  shall  know  me  !" 

Her  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  his  face, 
first  vacantly,  then  with  a  wonder-stricken 
radiance.  "  Mr.  Jack,"  she  said,  under  her 
breath,  "did  they  tell  yo'  ?  I  saved  her; 
that's  all.  Yo'  needn'  say  nothin';  I  jess 
wanted  to  look  at  yo'.  I  saved  her.  'Twas 
awful  hot.  I  kin  hear  it  roarin'  now.  She 
come  to  me;  she  wouldn'  come  to  nobody 
else." 

"  Virginia,"  said  Roden,  "  listen  to  me ; 
stop  talking.  What  do  I  care  about  Bon- 
nibel?  Child,  do  you  want  to  break  my 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  219 

heart  ?  Listen,  Virginia ;  I  forgive  you — I 
forgive  you'" 

"Do — you  —  really?"  she  said,  with  the 
old  timid  joy  in  her  soft  voice.  "  I  ain't 
dreamin'  ?  Well,  God's  so  good  to  me ! 
But  I  did  save  her.  '  Bonnibel !'  I  said — 
'  Bonnibel!'  an'  she  come  right  straight  ter 
me  with  her  pretty  head  tucked  down. 
Then  came  all  that  fire  on  us.  I  thought 
'twas  over.  But  I  saved  her — I  saved  her. 
Please  tell  him  that — -please  tell  him  that. 
I  reckon  he'll  sorter  remember  me  kind  fur 
that ;  don'  you,  father  ?" 

After  a  while  her  reason  came  again. 
She  asked  to  see  Bonnibel;  they  could 
bring  her  to  the  window,  she  said,  and  she 
would  like  also  to  give  her  a  handful  of 
grass. 

They  rolled  the  bed  to  the  window,  and 
little  Hicks  led  Bonnibel  up  beside  it.  Ro- 
den  went  out  himself  and  gathered  a  hand 
ful  of  fresh  grass.  I  think  the  lad  only  re 
spected  his  master  more  for  the  tears  that 


220  Virginia  of  Virginia. 

ran  down  his  cheeks.  He  couldn't  see 
very  distinctly  himself  just  then,  this  good 
little  Hicks. 

"  Bonnibel,"  said  the  girl,  in  her  cooing 
tones — "  Bonnibel." 

What  was  the  matter?  Had  suffering 
charged  some  magic  in  that  soft  voice? 
Bonnibel  turned  indifferently  away  from 
the  anxious  hand,  and  rubbed  her  bright 
head  with  an  impatient  movement  against 
one  of  her  fore-legs. 

"  Oh !"  said  the  girl,  while  the  glad  flush 
died  out  of  her  face,  and  the  green  blades 
fell  from  her  hold  upon  the  window-sill, 
"  Bonnibel  don'  know  me  any  more — she 
don'  care.  I  gave  my  life  for  her,  an' — an' 
she  don'  care." 

"  Yes,  she  does — she  does,"  said  Roden, 
frantic  for  her  disappointment;  "  she's  just 
gorged,  the  little  glutton !  She's  been  out 
at  grass  ever  since  you  saved  her,  Virginia 
dear ;  that's  all." 

"No,  'tain't,"   said   the   girl,  sadly.     "I 


Virginia  of  Virginia.  221 

ain't  the  same,  I  reckon ;  I  reckon  I'm  right 
near  gone,  Mr.  Jack.  Well,  I  saved  her, 
anyhow.  The  most  part  fell  on  me ;  she 
kicked  herself  loose.  Please,  father,  ef  Mr. 
Jack  don'  come  in  time — -please,  father,  tell 
him  ez  how  I  saved  Bonnibel.  Oh,  father, 
I  mus'  tell  somebody  'fore  I  go.  I  kyarn' 
bear  to  think  there  won't  be  anybody  in 
all  th'  world  ez  knows  it  when  I'm  gone. 
I  loved  him,  father  dear — I  loved  him  so ! 
An'  I've  been  mighty  wicked;  an'  God's  been 
mighty  good  ter  me;  an'  I'm  goin'  to  heaven, 
mammy  says.  But  I  won't  have  him  even 
there — I  won't  have  him — even  there." 

The  soft  voice  broke  suddenly — stopped. 
The  bright  head  dropped  forward  on  her 
breast. 

Roden  •  had  buried  his  face  in  her  two 
pale  hands.  When  he  looked  up,  old  Her- 
rick  was  closing  gently  with  his  toil-rough 
ened  hand  the  sweet  wide  eyes  which  never 
more  would  look  on  anything  this  side  the 
stars. 


222  Virginia  of  Virginia.. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Bonnibel,  re 
penting,  perhaps,  of  her  former  coldness, 
thrust  in  her  little  deer-head  at  the  open 
window,  and  drew  a  long  sighing  breath  as 
of  contentment. 

The  blades  of  grass  dropped  from  the 
thin  hand  now  so  still  upon  the  stirless 
bosom  were  blown  along  the  window-sill 
by  the  mare's  warm  breath. 


THE    END. 


A   BROTHER  TO    DRAGONS, 

AND    OTHER    OLD-TIME    TALES. 
By  AMELIE  RIVES.     Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Extra,  $1  oo. 


Not  alone  in  the  success  in  reproducing  the  antique  diction  are 
they  remarkable,  but  in  getting  the  color  and  atmosphere  of  the 
period.  ...  In  the  observation  of  natural  objects,  and  above  all 
the  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  is  found  the  promise  that  this 
work  holds  forth.  .  .  .  The  volume  takes  high  rank  in  the  depart 
ment  which  marks  the  most  notable  achievements  of  American 
letters  at  the  present  day. — N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

How  well  Miss  Rives  has  sustained  and  added  to  the  reputa 
tion  she  so  suddenly  won,  we  all  know,  and  the  permanency  of 
that  reputation  demonstrates  conclusively  that  her  success  did 
not  depend  upon  the  lucky  striking  of  a  popular  fancy,  but  that  it 
rests  upon  enduring  qualities  that  are  developing  more  and  more 
richly  year  by  year. — Richmond  State. 

Miss  Rives  is  a  woman  of  most  undoubted  power.  She  has 
imagination,  daring,  and  an  exquisite  sense  of  form. — N.  Y.  Star. 

Three  of  Miss  Amelie  Rives's  most  brilliant  stories.  .  .  .  Their 
quaint  old-time  manner  gives  them  a  peculiar  charm. — Philadel 
phia  Bulletin. 

Three  striking  stories  of  very  unusual  force  and  fertility  of 
thought  and  diction  and  strong  dramatic  feeling,  added  to  which 
is  a  quick  and  sympathetic  fancy. — N.  Y.Sun. 

Here  is  pathos  which  is  not  morbid  ;  and  though  the  humor  is 
broad,  it  is  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  time  and  the  characters  of 
the  supposed  narrators.  These  three  stories  are  rich  in  promise. 
—Critic,  N.  Y. 

For  more  reasons  than  one  Miss  Rives  is  seen  at  her  best  in 
old-time  tales  such  as  she  shows  us  in  this  volume.  The  atmos 
phere  with  which  these  tales  are  clothed  is  especially  congenial 
to  her,  and  she  can  work  within  its  influence  with  remarkable  suc 
cess. — Brooklyn  Times. 

It  is  evident  that  the  author  has  imagination  in  an  unusual  de 
gree,  much  strength  of  expression,  and  skill  in  delineating  char 
acter. — Boston  Journal. 

There  are  few  young  writers  who  begin  a  promising  career 
with  so  much  spontaneity  and  charm  of  expression  as  is  displayed 
by  Miss  Rives  in  this  volume. — Literary  World,  Boston. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

^  HARPER  &  BROTHERS  will  send  the  above  work  by  mail,  postage  Pre 
paid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  prict. 


CAPTAIN  MACDONALD'S  DAUGHTER. 

A  Novel.    By  ARCHIBALD  CAMPBELL.     i6mo,  Cloth, 
Extra,  $i  oo. 


It  is  a  genuinely  pathetic  tale,  and  shows  a  keen  and  accurate 
knowledge  of  human  nature  under  many  varying  conditions. — 
Saturday  Evening  Gazette,  Boston. 

A  story  of  sound  moral  quality  and  touching  pathos. — N.  Y. 
Commercial  Advertiser. 

There  are  many  excellent  delineations  of  scenes  and  life  in 
Scotland,  Virginia,  and  Florida.  .  .  .  The  characters  are  also  care 
fully  studied  and  successfully  drawn.  The  heroine,  the  warm 
hearted,  impulsive,  and  gifted  Nan,  especially,  is  a  very  charming 
personage.  ...  As  a  quiet  story,  with  a  pathetic  vein  running 
through  it,  we  can  confidently  recommend  it  to  all. — Congrega- 
tionalist,  Boston. 

Full  of  life  and  movement,  and  marked  by  both  power  and 
pathos. — Zion's  Herald,  Boston. 

The  characters  are  very  well  drawn,  and  there  is  a  natural  de 
velopment  of  the  plot.  .  .  .  The  descriptions  of  scenery  are  vivid 
and  life-like,  and  the  scenes  are  totally  free  from  the  extravagance 
which  mars  so  much  contemporary  fiction.  The  author  of  this 
work  will  be  heard  from  again. — Christian  Intelligencer,  N.  Y. 

A  novel  of  Scottish  life,  shifting  to  American  scenes,  and  gives 
the  reader  a  glimpse  of  life  in  Virginia  and  Florida.  The  story 
is  told  with  much  simplicity,  though  a  study  of  heredity  is  in 
wrought  with  the  artless  narrative.  .  .  .  The  story  is  quiet  in  ac 
tion,  but  will  please  lovers  of  naturalness  and  faithful  character 
delineation. — Commonwealth,  Boston. 

The  characters  of  the  story  are  strong  and  the  book  well  writ 
ten. — Christian  Advocate,  N.  Y. 

A  strong  hand  has  drawn  the  minister's  household  in  the  manse 
of  Strathlowrie.  Surely  the  author  must  have  at  some  time  made 
one  of  just  such  a  Scotch  family,  so  graphic  are  the  touches  of 
reality.  .  .  .  Seldom  has  a  grave  story  of  a  minister's  household 
been  told  with  such  a  rippling  accompaniment  of  humor. — Phil 
adelphia  Ledger. 

A  bright,  engaging  book,  sparkling  with  shrewd  Scotch  wit  on 
nearly  every  page,  and  ends  most  satisfactorily. —  Christian  at 
Work,  N.  Y. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

T"  HARPER  &  BROTHERS  will  send  the  above  work  by  -mail,  postage  pre 
paid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


RETURN  TO  I 


14  DAY  USE 

'O  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORRO^ 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

13May'63GR 


LD  21A-50m-ll,'62 
(D3279slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


M11971 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


